Growth and Composting

Hogwarts had a school doctor, but she spent all year serving other races outside the school—who did not even appreciate it. The one providing treatment for students in the infirmary was Nurse Poppy Pomfrey.

In ancient times, wizards often served as doctors as well. With a master-level Potions professor on top of that, if neither of them could solve a problem, Wilhelmina probably could not solve it either. In the end, the patient could only be sent to St Mungo's.

During Hagrid's school years, Hogwarts had already suffered one scandal. A Muggle-born girl had been murdered. Although Hagrid was not the killer, he had still been expelled from Hogwarts. Tensions between Muggles and wizards had already become extremely fierce, and the school could not withstand another scandal. Letting Remus Lupin enroll had been a gamble.

Once she understood the reasons behind it, Pomona finally realized why Dumbledore had planted the Whomping Willow on the school grounds on the first day of term. It was a test, but also a lesson. Lupin was not bad by nature, but if he kept company with werewolves who harmed others at will, he too would become someone despised by all. A person's innate nature was arranged by God, beyond anyone's interference, but their acquired nature could be shaped, provided they were cultivated in suitable soil. Neither Beauxbatons nor Durmstrang had a Sorting Ceremony. It was like putting a cactus suited to sandy soil and an orchid suited to the rainforest in the same room. Too much water would kill the cactus; too little would kill the orchid. Finding an amount of water that would let both survive was no easy task. Durmstrang was filled with pure-blood wizards. Even if teachers overlooked something, parents could still make up for it at home. Beauxbatons, meanwhile, had strict school rules and no winter holiday. All winter long, the palace was surrounded by ice sculptures. Hogwarts at least had summer and winter holidays, and third-years could visit Hogsmeade on their days off. He truly regarded the students as his own family, just as he had said. Unfortunately, he faced a severe shortage of staff. Those students could become talents, or tools for certain people to realize their ambitions. Slytherin's young Death Eaters were gradually replacing Slughorn's Slug Club, building networks of talented people in every field to serve their master. They would not miss any opportunity to force Dumbledore out.

The crisis was right before them, yet many chose to stand by and watch. Some did not want trouble; others acted for their own interests. Even though Pomona did not agree with Dumbledore's methods, she still did not want to reveal that Remus Lupin was a werewolf, even though no one had asked her to keep the secret.

When a decision had to be made in haste, trust your instincts. At the very least, Dumbledore was far more rational than the Dark Lord who clamored about pure-blood supremacy. Environment could change people. Slytherin had now become increasingly mad, with none of its former elegance. Tom Riddle was different from Grindelwald. Grindelwald had genuinely been devoted to solving the problem of wizarding survival. To benefit wizards, Muggle interests had to be sacrificed. Tom Riddle, however, constantly instilled pure-blood superiority into those wizarding aristocrats. He was arrogant and blind to the situation. Letting someone like that lead wizards would bring the entire race to ruin.

After obtaining the key to Professor Grubbly-Plank's office, Pomona shook off Lupin and Hagrid and found somewhere to calm down alone. Changing the nature of soil was not something that could be done overnight. Spring was suited to growth; autumn and winter were suited to composting. Leaves withered from the canopy, fell to the ground, gradually decayed, and eventually became the fertilizer plants needed to grow the following year. September was not suited to planting trees, but it was suited to composting. Dumbledore seemed to have calculated even that.

He was no less terrifying than Grindelwald. Even if Lupin did not go outside the school, the room she had seen in the eighth-floor corridor before could transform for him. If she did nothing about that Whomping Willow, the wizards could eventually burn it with fire. An innocent life would be dragged into the wizards' farce and destroyed because of it.

What had it done wrong? It only wanted to break free from an environment unsuited to its growth. Clay was unsuitable for plants not only because of poor drainage, but because it hindered root growth. Plant roots liked to spread outward. Forcing roots into clay was like binding a person's hands and feet. Humans fought when deprived of freedom, so why could plants not fight for survival?

She slowly closed her eyes. Hogwarts needed a responsible Herbology teacher, which meant she could not travel long distances as often as Dorian did, disappearing even when term began. Like a tree, she would take root at Hogwarts. That was Dumbledore's unspoken meaning: "Your life is here." She would become a housewife with no home, and more tragically, the children she cared for would not even be her own.

For the greater good, someone had to make sacrifices. Dumbledore was a selfless great man, but regrettably, not everyone was as selfless as he was. So he used people's kindness to lay traps, making them believe it was their own wish when, in truth, they acted exactly as he had planned...

"Pomona."

She heard someone call her name and looked toward the sound. A tall man stood in the corridor some distance away. She rubbed her eyes and discovered that it was Professor Slughorn.

"Are you all right?" the professor asked. He was unlike the eager, profit-seeking man he had been in his office. He was an ordinary teacher, concerned for his student.

"It has been a long day, Professor," she said listlessly. "A long day."

"Why aren't you back in your dormitory? Wandering around the school in the middle of the night isn't safe," Professor Slughorn said gently, and she could not help smiling faintly.

"Perhaps I won't be a student for much longer," she said. "Professor McGonagall offered me a position. Herbology professor."

"Oh, but you're still so young."

"Professor, you and Professor Dumbledore seem to be about the same age. What was he doing when he was my age?"

"I don't want to talk about him." Slughorn's face darkened, and he spoke in a cold, disgusted voice. "I truly don't know why Armando Dippet recommended him to succeed as headmaster."

"Was there anyone else suitable?" Pomona asked casually.

"Of course there was. Barty Crouch. He is a very upright man," Slughorn immediately replied. "But who is Dumbledore? He is the hero who defeated Grindelwald. How could a mere head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement compete with him?"

Slughorn was actually angry. Perhaps he believed Dumbledore had manipulated him too. Herbology was the foundation of Potions, and how great a temptation was a Veela skilled in plant magic to a Potions teacher?

"Professor, please help me." Pomona held back her tears, refusing to let herself cry aloud. "I don't know what I should do."

"Don't make that face, Pomona. I know you're Dumbledore's person," Slughorn said coldly. Before turning away and leaving with a sweep of his robes, he added, "Wandering the corridors after dark. Two points from Hufflepuff."

"You can't—" Lupin's voice suddenly rang through the silent corridor, then abruptly cut off, as though a hand had clapped over his mouth.

"Who's there?" Slughorn followed the sound away. Pomona was left alone in the long, dark corridor.

Article Seventy-Two of the Hufflepuff Code of Conduct: Push yourself a little, and you will make a choice.

Though the one forcing her was not Pomona herself, she already understood how she needed to choose.

She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and headed toward the Hufflepuff basement.

No wonder she had been so afraid before. She had been facing a choice of fate.