Inside Greenhouse One, Ian’s first class was far from over.
“Alright, let’s officially begin today’s lesson,” Ian said, clapping his hands to draw the young witches and wizards back from their admiring awe of top-tier academic wizardry.
He led the students to an open space within the greenhouse.
With a flick of his wand, the earth beneath them tumbled and churned as thick, wooden roots burst through the soil, growing at a frantic speed.
“Ah!” A young girl shrieked in fright at the sudden sight.
Ian glanced at her, his hands never halting their rhythmic motion.
As he wove his wand through the air, the roots seemed to gain a mind of their own, twisting and braiding together in pairs.
Before long, rows of desks and chairs—entirely woven from living roots—appeared before the astonished crowd.
“Whoa, bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, his eyes shining with open admiration at Ian’s display.
Hermione was equally spellbound.
She now thoroughly believed every word Harry had told them yesterday.
The rest of the young students felt much the same way.
In the British wizarding world, there was no such thing as preschool magical education.
Before receiving their first wands, most children of magical families had only seen their parents occasionally use a spell or two at home.
And that was for pure-bloods or half-bloods; for Muggle-born children, it was even more unheard of.
What was more, Ian’s technique was far less simple than it appeared on the surface.
“Minerva, did you see that?
That wasn’t Transfiguration!” Professor Sprout caught Professor McGonagall’s arm in excitement.
Professor McGonagall herself wore a look of utter astonishment.
Given her vast mastery of Transfiguration, she could naturally tell this was not traditional Transfiguration—or rather, only a small fraction of it touched upon the art.
Yet what baffled her was: How had Ian managed it?
Pondering this, Professor McGonagall couldn’t help but furrow her brow and cast a inquiring glance toward Dumbledore.
“I haven’t the faintest idea either,” Dumbledore murmured, detecting McGonagall’s look and shaking his head with a light chuckle.
Professor McGonagall gave him a look that practically screamed “Like I’d ever believe that,” before turning her attention straight back to Ian.
“Professor, what sort of magic was that?
Was it Transfiguration?” Hermione raised her hand high into the air, asking in a flurry the moment Ian gestured for her to speak.
The rest of the class stared at Ian with identical curiosity.
They had all assumed Herbology was merely about tending to a few magical plants; none of them had expected to witness such a breathtaking, stylish display of magic.
“Ha!” Ian let out a light laugh, shaking his head at them.
“Don’t get ahead of yourselves.
That isn’t a spell any of you can perform right now.” “Furthermore, don’t go classifying every piece of magic you don’t understand under Transfiguration.
You have to learn to judge these things for yourselves, or Professor McGonagall won’t be very pleased with you.” Hearing this, the young wizards turned in unison to look back at Professor McGonagall.
Meeting her stern, unyielding gaze, a collective shiver ran down their spines, and they instantly fell silent.
Having just endured a Transfiguration lesson that very morning, they were acutely aware of how formidable she could be.
Finding herself teasingly brought up by Ian, Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, her expression growing even sterner.
Realizing he had poked a sleeping dragon, Ian hastily shifted the subject, adopting a serious expression of his own.
“Now then, find yourselves a seat.” The young witches and wizards scrambled to sit down at the newly formed desks.
Once everyone was settled, Ian posed the very first formal question of the lesson: “Can anyone tell me the original purpose behind establishing the subject of Herbology?” Everyone froze.
Even Dumbledore himself had never quite framed the matter in such a light.
It seemed everyone had grown so accustomed to the existence of these core classes that no one ever stopped to consider why the subject had been created in the first place.
Ron Weasley tilted his head, leaning in to whisper low to Harry, “Isn’t it just about planting things that bite you?” Harry shrugged back; he had a feeling it wasn’t quite that simple.
Ian surveyed the room, inwardly chuckling as he saw the children lost in thought—even Hermione Granger hadn’t raised her hand this time.
It seems taking control of the room right off the bat worked like a charm!
“Nobody knows?” Ian let a deliberate touch of disappointment show on his face.
“Very well, let me rephrase the question: What would happen if the magical world suddenly lost all of its magical plants?” “Potions class would be completely ruined!” a Gryffindor boy blurted out, drawing a few snickers from his peers—and causing Snape, sitting near the back, to go entirely dark-faced.
Ian glanced at the boy and gave a slight nod.
“Mmm, that is indeed one answer.
Anyone else?” Seeing that no one else ventured a guess, Ian dropped an astounding statement: “What if I told you that without magical plants in this world, the entire magical realm would regress—or even collapse completely?” “Collapse?” Ron couldn’t help squeaking out in shock, though he swiftly ducked his head beneath Professor McGonagall’s sharp gaze.
The young wizards exchanged bewildered glances, finding it hard to process a conclusion that sounded so wildly exaggerated.
Only the professors in the back remained completely unaffected, watching Ian with mounting intrigue instead.
Of course, one couldn’t expect Snape to look pleased in the slightest.
Taking in everyone’s reactions, Ian didn’t press the statement immediately.
Instead, he raised his wand and tapped the air gently.
In the next instant, shimmering illusions of several magical plants rose above the root-woven podium, slowly rotating: a luminous Moon grass gleaming softly, a thorn-covered Devil’s Snare, and a cluster of Mandrakes simulating the full bloom of their leaves.
“Who can tell me the names of these magical plants, and what uses they have aside from brewing potions?” Ian asked.
Hermione raised her hand again, though this time she wasn’t the only one.
“Harry, why don’t you answer,” Ian called out.
“According to One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi,” Harry stood up and began reciting, “Moon grass is a magical plant that only matures under a full moon, and it’s also one of the ingredients used to brew the Wolfsbane Potion.
“Devil’s Snare is a relatively gentle plant that fears light and heat, preferring dark, damp environments.
It can capture and bind small animals, like rats or snakes.
“And the Mandrake is an extremely precious magical herb—not because it’s rare, but because its growth cycle is so long.
However, it can cure almost all forms of magical damage and curse-inflicted harm.” “Very good.
Five points to Gryffindor, Harry Potter,” Ian nodded in approval.
As Harry sat back down, he noticed Ron looking at him as though he were staring at a complete stranger.
“What’s wrong, Ron?” Harry asked in a hushed tone.
“Harry…
don’t tell me you’ve gone and memorized the entire textbook like Hermione has?” The look in Ron’s eyes was the exact expression of someone who had just discovered his fellow slacker friend was actually a secret academic prodigy all along.
“No, I haven’t,” Harry shook his head, instantly bringing a spark of hope back into Ron’s eyes.
“I only memorized the key parts; I didn’t memorize the whole thing.” The light in Ron’s eyes died instantly.
Their hushed exchange didn’t distract Ian, who was repeatedly tapping his wand in midair.
The ghostly projections of the herbs slowly faded away, until only intricate, glowing networks of dotted lines remained suspended in the air.
Ian pointed to these luminescent lines and explained gravely, “These are the magical circuits of these plants.” “The magical circuits within these plants draw upon the invisible magic ambient in the air at all times to sustain their magical properties.
Just like this!” Ian pulled a seed from his pocket, placed it on the desk, and pressed the tip of his wand against it.
He began murmuring a low chant—what seemed to be an incantation.
Yet even Hermione, sitting in the front row, couldn’t make out what the spell was; in fact, she had never even heard of the language he was chanting in.
As Ian’s chant resonated, tiny, deep-green specks of light began floating into existence around the seed, frantically burrowing inside it.
This wondrous sight drew collective gasps of astonishment from the young wizards.
A moment later, a crisp crack echoed through the room as a tender, emerald-green sprout burst through the shell.
The emergence of the sprout seemed to trigger a sudden resonance, causing the deep-green specks of light to surge into the seed at a blistering speed.
Simultaneously, numerous pale, softer green specks of light began to drift outward.
The instant these softer specks appeared, everyone present felt a sudden jolt of refreshment, as if the fatigue in their bodies had been swept away in a single breath, leaving them feeling lighter and thoroughly rejuvenated.
The older professors in the back felt this sensation even more vividly.
“Albus!” Professor McGonagall gasped, gripping Dumbledore’s arm in shock.
Dumbledore said nothing, though the blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles flickered with an unreadable light.
Snape stood up as well, his dark eyes locked dead-set on the growing seedling.
As a Potions Master, how could he fail to recognize the staggering vitality contained within that young sprout?
It was already an extraordinarily potent potion ingredient in the making.
Only Professor Sprout remained relatively composed, yet even so, the pride shining in her eyes as she looked at Ian was impossible to conceal.
The seedling continued to grow, quickly expanding from a single sprout into two or three delicately veined leaves, its stem slender yet standing remarkably erect.
Meanwhile, the newly generated, pale-green specks of light drifted through the air like a gentle mist, bathing the entire greenhouse in a fresh, vibrant aura of pure life.
“These lighter specks of light,” Ian’s voice chimed in at just the right moment, pulling everyone’s attention back from the breathtaking display, “are the life energy naturally emitted by magical plants as they absorb magic to grow.
“They possess a mild nourishing and soothing effect on a wizard’s mind, while simultaneously regulating and harmonizing the world’s ambient magical energy.” “However…” Ian’s tone suddenly shifted.
With a light flick of his wand, the rate at which the deep-green specks gathered slowed to a crawl before stopping completely, and the pale-green specks slowly dissolved into nothingness.
“If I interrupt the supply of magic and simulate an environment completely devoid of magical plants…” With his other hand, Ian pulled an ancient, unadorned wooden box from beneath his robes and flipped the lid open.
There was nothing solid inside, yet it emitted a dull, grayish field that seemed to absorb the surrounding light.
Ian brought the wooden box close to the seedling.
In an instant, the seedling withered at a rate visible to the naked eye.
Its vibrant emerald leaves shriveled into a sickly yellow, and its once-erect stem collapsed limply.
The remaining specks of light vanished without a trace.
“The magic cycle between plants and the environment is a two-way street,” Ian said, snapping the wooden box shut.
The seedling stopped decaying, but it failed to recover, remaining suspended in its sickly, withered state as no further light appeared.
“Aww…” The young wizards let out a collective sigh of dismay at the sight.
Ian’s voice pressed on firmly: “Magical plants are finite, but the demands of wizards are endless.” “Without Herbology—without future Herbology masters like you to cultivate and preserve these magical plants—the future of the wizarding world would be grim indeed.” Ian’s expression turned exceedingly grave as he looked down solemnly at the young wizards before him.
“So, tell me…
do you think Herbology is important to you now?” “Yes!
It’s very important!” the children shouted in unison, as though suddenly burdened with the monumental mission of saving the magical world’s future.
“Very good!” Ian nodded in satisfaction.
“In that case, your homework for this lesson is to observe a magical plant near you and record your thoughts and findings—no less than ten inches, to be handed in before our next class!” “Class dismissed!” With that, Ian gathered up his teaching props from the desk and swept out of the greenhouse, leaving the stunned children standing frozen in place behind him.