The bell signaling the end of Charms class rang amidst a flurry of drifting feathers and scattered incantations.
Standing atop his pile of books, Professor Flitwick cheerfully summarized the achievements of their first lesson.
He gave special praise once again to Alvin Vance and Hermione—who had been the second person to make her feather levitate steadily after Alvin—and encouraged everyone to practice more after class.
The young witches and wizards filed out of the classroom, their faces wearing expressions of excitement, frustration, or lingering fascination.
Ron’s face was as red as his hair as he muttered under his breath about “this lousy wand” or “it must be the feather’s fault,” while Harry tried his best to comfort him.
Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, had recovered his reserved composure.
He strode out with his chest puffed up and head held high, as if his performance—barely managing to make his feather wobble a few inches off the desk right before the bell—was something worth writing home about.
Their next destination was the greenhouses behind the castle for Herbology, taught by the Head of Hufflepuff, Professor Pomona Sprout.
The students traversed the main castle building, exited through a side door, and followed a cobbled path toward several massive, glass-covered greenhouses.
The air was thick with the rich scent of earth, fertilizer, and various plants.
To Alvin, who was accustomed to the crisp mountain air of his past, the smell was far from unpleasant; instead, it carried a vibrant, thriving sense of vitality.
As they approached the largest greenhouse, the door pushed open from within to reveal a short, plump witch wearing a thick patched hat and smudged with dirt.
She had a rosy face crinkled with friendly wrinkles, and her smile was as warm as a sun-ripened apple.
“Come in, come in, mind your step, children!”
Her voice was loud, booming with enthusiasm.
“Welcome to Greenhouse One!
I am Pomona Sprout, your Herbology professor!”
The moment Alvin laid eyes on Professor Sprout, something stirred within him.
Her plump, genial face, her busy yet contented demeanor, the smudges of soil and greenery clinging to her clothes, even her loud, straightforward greeting…
all of it instantly reminded him of Aunt Zhao at the foot of Mount Qingcheng, who used to set up her breakfast stall every morning to sell soy milk, fried dough sticks, and sticky rice rolls.
Aunt Zhao had been equally sturdy and warmhearted, always smelling of flour and cooking oil, her eyes crinkling into slits when she laughed as she called out to regular passersby in her raspy voice.
Both carried a similar earth-mother aura—deeply rooted in daily life and labor, rich with nurturing warmth—that naturally made one feel close and at ease.
Inside, the greenhouse was warm and humid, the sunlight softened by the glass canopy overhead.
Long wooden workbenches stood in neat rows, topped with gardening tools, pots, and plants awaiting attention.
Besides the smell of soil, the air held a blend of fresh, spicy, and even bizarre aromas unique to hundreds of different plants.
“Find a seat anywhere, take a spot—Herbology doesn’t require House separation!” Professor Sprout waved her hands, signaling for everyone to relax.
“Before we get our hands dirty, I need to chatter a bit about what Herbology is and how we classify these marvelous little creatures.”
She walked up to a magically self-cleaning blackboard at the front of the greenhouse and picked up a piece of chalk.
“Broadly speaking, any plant possessing magical properties or special characteristics is called a ‘magical herb’ or simply a ‘herb.'”
Professor Sprout’s voice was full of infectious passion.
“And within our field of Herbology, for the convenience of study and application, we generally divide them into three major categories—”
She wrote three terms on the board: Wild Species, Cultivated Species, and Animal Species.
They form the oldest and most fundamental part of the magical plant kingdom; many possess potent, primitive magic, though their yield and traits can be unpredictable.
“Cultivated Species, as the name suggests, are variants or new breeds developed over long periods through selective breeding, hybridization, or magical enchantment by wizards and other intelligent beings.
They adapt better to artificial environments, offering far more stable and optimized yields, potencies, or specific traits—such as many common potion ingredients.
“As for Animal Species—pay attention now, children,” Professor Sprout emphasized, “this term doesn’t refer to animals themselves, but to magical materials derived from specific parts of an animal’s body under particular conditions that exhibit herb-like properties!
A bezoar, for instance, is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and serves as a vital component in many antidotes.
Animal Species herbs are an indispensable part of our treasury, often reflecting the miraculous connections and transformations between life forms in the magical world.”
Alvin listened attentively, nodding inwardly.
This classification shared striking similarities with Eastern pharmacology—particularly Daoist alchemy and traditional Chinese medicine.
Traditional Eastern medicine also emphasized *daodi* herbs—authentic regional herbs grown naturally in their native habitats, similar to Wild Species—alongside numerous cultivated varieties, while animal-derived remedies such as pilose antler, musk, and calculus bovis formed crucial components.
The difference lay in Eastern medicine’s emphasis on a herb’s “four natures and five flavors,” its direction of action—rising, falling, floating, or sinking—and its channel tropism, corresponding to the body’s Yin and Yang and the Five Elements.
In contrast, magical Herbology seemed to focus more on specific magical properties and their direct utility in crafting potions and magical items.
“Today,” Professor Sprout clapped her hands, pulling everyone’s attention back, “we will learn about and process a highly practical, classic wild-growing healing herb—Essence of Dittany!”
She stepped over to a workbench and picked up a pot containing an unassuming plant.
It had downy, light-green, heart-shaped leaves and inconspicuous small white flowers.
“Don’t let its plain appearance fool you,” Professor Sprout said, fondling a leaf affectionately.
“Essence of Dittany possesses powerful magical healing and restorative properties.
For shallow cuts, scrapes, or even mild burns, chewing its fresh leaves and applying them directly to the wound works wonders to stop bleeding, ease pain, and promote healing.
It is a fundamental ingredient in many healing remedies, from simple Essence of Dittany to complex Skele-Gro.”
Next, she began explaining the practical portion of today’s lesson: learning how to safely harvest Essence of Dittany leaves without damaging the main stem and roots, how to identify peak maturity based on color, texture, and magical shimmer, and how to use specialized silver knives—which caused minimal disruption to the plant’s magic—for preliminary processing in preparation for making Essence of Dittany.
“One pot of Essence of Dittany, one silver knife, and one collection dish per person.
Off you go!
Remember, be gentle—they are alive and can feel your intent!” Professor Sprout handed out the tools.
Alvin received his pot of Essence of Dittany.
Instead of rushing to act, he paused to observe it closely.
In his spiritual perception, the small plant radiated a gentle, pure, and vibrant green magical flux, harboring impressive restorative energy.
He extended a finger and lightly brushed the edge of a leaf, sensing its texture and the *qi* contained within.
Then he picked up the delicate silver knife, which reminded him of the small jade blade his father used when processing spiritual herbs.
Holding his breath, Alvin funneled a trace of imperceptible spiritual energy into his fingertips—not to cast a spell, but to heighten his stability and sensitivity, aligning himself with the plant’s natural rhythm of life.
While many of the young witches and wizards were still clumsily trying to cut or hesitating over which leaf to choose; while Hermione was meticulously cross-referencing her plant with the illustrations in *One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi*; while Ron nearly sliced off his own finger; and while Draco attempted to cut with an overly forceful “elegance” that tore off a piece of the stem instead, Alvin moved.
His movements were seamless and precise, flowing like water.
The silver knife seemed to come alive in his hand.
With a gentle slice at a clever angle along the base of the stem, a plump, evenly colored leaf—its edges glistening with a faint, healthy magical luster—detached cleanly from the plant and landed in the dish held in his other hand. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
The cut was neat, and the main plant barely quivered.
Then came a second leaf, and a third…
Every leaf he selected possessed the highest vitality.
The process was swift and quiet, free of any wasted movement, looking less like completing classwork and more like performing a focused, serene ritual.
Upon finishing, out of habit, Alvin condensed a faint sliver of nourishing spiritual energy onto his fingertip and lightly brushed it over the cut stems.
It was a minor trick he had learned from a martial uncle skilled in spiritual plants while tending the herb garden at the Daoist temple, said to ease a plant’s pain and speed its recovery.
In fact, the Essence of Dittany plant seemed to visibly relax under his touch.
Professor Sprout patrolled the greenhouse, occasionally correcting students’ technique or answering questions.
When she reached Alvin, she stopped dead in her tracks, unfeigned astonishment and admiration spreading across her round face.
“Merlin’s beard…” she gasped softly, leaning down to inspect the harvested leaves and then looking at the vibrant, undamaged plant.
“Perfect…
absolutely textbook harvesting!
Mr.
Selwyn, have you handled magical herbs before?”
Alvin paused his work and replied politely, “I learned a few methods for tending plants from my elders at home, Professor.
And a little…
Eastern herbal lore.”
“Eastern herbal lore?” Professor Sprout’s eyes lit up as though she had discovered a new continent.
“Fascinating!
No wonder…
there is an extraordinary reverence and sensitivity for plant vitality in your technique.
It’s not just skill—it’s like…
a form of communication with the plants themselves.
Five points to Slytherin!
For your outstanding technique and respect for herbs!”
The surrounding students turned to look once again.
Hermione bit her lip, trying even harder to mimic Alvin’s delicate technique.
Draco stared at the bruised, inferior leaves in his own dish, then back at Alvin’s flawless results, that familiar complex look—a blend of frustration and curiosity—surfacing on his face once more.
Herbology class continued amidst the scents of earth and herbal fragrance.
Alvin realized that his interest in this subject might be even deeper than he had anticipated.
Magical Herbology and the Eastern pharmacology he knew were like two vastly different yet equally profound gardens, and he was now standing at the threshold connecting them.
The silver knife and the leaves of Essence of Dittany in his hands felt like his very first medium for exploring this wondrous connection.