Natural Magic Power and Mandrake

"This is a very dangerous field," Professor Sprout said slowly. "Sound Magic, especially anything involving the Mental Layer, lies at the intersection of profound and complex Dark Arts and White Magic.

"Wizards have indeed studied Therapeutic Harmonics throughout history, but most experiments ended in tragedy."

"Because it's difficult to control?"

"Because sound is invisible and diffuse," Sprout explained. "You can precisely control the trajectory of a spell, but it is very difficult to control how sound spreads.

"Moreover, every person's Soul and Body differ subtly. A treatment that works for you may be deadly poison to me. There is no universal solution."

No, sound could be focused. Physical means could accomplish it; there was no reason Magic could not.

Regulus kept that in mind. There was no universal solution, but what if there were a way to detect an individual's soul? What if the harmonics could be adjusted specifically for each person?

Most crucially, treatment depended on the person—but what about killing?

I could use it to kill on a large scale.

"One more question, Professor. If a Mandrake's cry is so dangerous, why is it unaffected itself? Or how do Mandrakes communicate with one another?"

Sprout smiled. "The questions you are asking now are already approaching NEWT exam-level research topics.

"The short answer is that Mandrakes have their own protective measures. Their hearing differs from that of wizards.

"As for communication... we do not know whether they need to communicate. At the very least, no wizard has successfully translated Mandrake Language—if anyone truly wishes to try."

She stood and brushed the dirt from her robes. "Keep your curiosity, Mr. Black, but remember: before you have sufficient knowledge and protection, do not attempt anything lightly."

"I understand, Professor. Thank you." Regulus thanked her sincerely.

Regulus stood as well, several ideas flashing through his mind: large-scale killing, precise killing, mental injury, physical injury.

And if he had the time, mental treatment would be a worthwhile direction.

The Dismissal Bell rang, and the students gradually left the Greenhouse. Regulus deliberately slowed as he packed up, waiting until everyone else had gone far away.

"Mr. Black," Sprout called out to him as expected. "Could you stay a little longer?"

"Of course, Professor." Regulus turned and nodded.

The two walked out of the Greenhouse and stood on the pebble path outside the Castle. The September wind still carried warmth, and fine ripples spread across the distant surface of the Black Lake.

"Your Magic Perception is very unusual." Sprout came straight to the point. "Most wizards perceive Magic Power as though seeing colors. They know it exists and can distinguish its strength, but they find it difficult to describe the details."

Regulus answered cautiously, "For me, Magic Perception is like having an extra sense. I can perceive the emotions of Gillyweed tubers—or, more accurately, it is a kind of feeling."

He decided to be partially honest. Sprout was the Hufflepuff Head of House, renowned for her gentleness and fairness, and she possessed a profound understanding of Plant Magic Power. She was worthy of a certain degree of trust.

Besides, in terms of Magic Perception, he was merely outstanding, not especially unique.

Sprout looked toward the Greenhouse. "At the far end of the Second Greenhouse, there is a Whomping Willow sapling. I planted it thirty years ago, when I was going through a... difficult time.

"That willow is still more irritable and aggressive than others of its kind. I have always suspected that my emotions affected it."

Sprout sighed and said seriously, "So I will give you a piece of advice: remain sensitive, but do not delve too deeply into dark plants.

"Some plants, such as Devil's Snare and Venomous Geranium—especially variants cultivated through the Dark Arts—accumulate pain, anger, and despair. Those emotions can backlash against those who perceive them."

She turned to Regulus, her gaze stern. "Your gift is a blessing, but it may also be a curse.

"If you encounter something too dark in your perceptions, sever the connection immediately. Come to me or another professor. Do not bear it alone."

"I will remember that, Professor." Regulus raised his head to look at Professor Sprout and nodded steadily.

Regulus could sense that Sprout's warning came from the heart. Perhaps she had seen similar cases, perhaps even tragedies.

"Also," Sprout said in a gentler tone, "if you are interested in researching Plant Magic Power, you may apply to become my assistant after the OWL exam.

"But for now, build a solid foundation. Every piece of knowledge in the textbooks has its use."

"I will, Professor."

"Go on. Do not be late for your next class."

That evening, during the free hour before dinner, Regulus took a detour to a Small Garden on the western side of the Castle. Ordinary ornamental plants grew there, with few Magical Plant varieties, and people rarely came by.

He needed to verify an idea.

Daisies were often used by wizards as basic potion ingredients.

Regulus found two Daisies growing side by side. One was healthy and full, while the outermost three leaves of the other had obvious yellowed edges. It might have been insect damage, or perhaps insufficient nutrients.

He crouched down, placing his right hand on the soil around the Healthy Daisy's roots and his left hand on the roots of the Damaged Daisy.

He closed his eyes and expanded his Magic Perception.

The Healthy Daisy's Magic Power was warm, steady, and a soft pale gold, like a slowly rotating halo.

The Damaged Daisy's Magic Power was much dimmer. Its glow flickered uncertainly, and the Magic Power in the yellowed leaf areas had nearly stagnated.

Regulus intended to guide the Healthy Daisy's Life Magic Power to repair the Damaged Daisy.

This was not a healing spell. Healing spells used a wizard's Magic Power to forcibly repair the target.

What he wanted to attempt was to serve as an intermediary channel, allowing Magic Power to flow naturally between plants.

He extended his own Magic Power into two fine threads, one connecting to the Healthy Daisy's core and the other to the damaged area of the Damaged Daisy.

The threads were exceedingly fine, to avoid interfering with the plants' own Magic Power circulation.

On the Healthy Daisy's end, he lightly drew upon its Magic Power, creating a high-Magic-Power-pressure area. On the Damaged Daisy's end, he created a low-Magic-Power-pressure area.

Like water flowing downhill, if it worked, the Healthy Daisy's Magic Power should naturally flow toward the damaged area.

But nothing changed. The two plants' Magic Power remained independent, ignoring the pressure difference he had created.

Regulus adjusted his approach. He recalled the emotional expression of Gillyweed tubers. Perhaps simple Magic Power pressure was not enough; perhaps he needed a way of communicating closer to plant instinct.

He adjusted his Magic Power output and attempted to imitate the Healthy Daisy's fluctuations.

Five minutes later, a change appeared.

A faint Golden Light Thread flowed from the Healthy Daisy's core and moved slowly along Regulus's Magic Channel. Its speed was very slow.

The light thread reached the damaged area and seeped into the yellowed leaf.

Regulus held his breath and observed carefully.

The Magic Power flow inside the leaf began to revive. The previously stagnant points of Magic Power were reactivated and began circulating slowly.

It worked, but the efficiency was extremely low.

Ten minutes passed. He had guided only enough repair for roughly one-tenth of a leaf, while his own Magic Power consumption was considerable.

After holding on for another five minutes, he slowly severed the connection and withdrew all his Magic Power.

On the Damaged Daisy, the yellowed edge of the outermost leaf had faded in a small ring. A strip about the width of a fingernail had returned to fresh green.

But that was all. The other leaves remained unchanged.

Regulus stood and rubbed the space between his brows. The Magic Power consumption had been astonishingly high. The cost outweighed the gain.

But the direction was correct. A key hypothesis had been verified: Plant Magic Power could be transferred between individuals.

Going further, natural Magic Power—even Magic Power contained within seemingly passive life forms such as plants—could likewise be guided, borrowed, and even controlled by a wizard's will.

Mandrakes!

Since the gentle Life Magic Power contained in ordinary Daisies could be guided, then could Magical Plants like Mandrakes, which contained deadly Magic Power, follow the same principle?

His thoughts spun rapidly, and an idea formed in his mind:

[Reverse deduction of Mandrake Lethality based on "Plant Magic Guidance"]

A Mandrake's cry could kill because it contained powerful Destructive Magic Power directed at the Soul and Body.

The Magic Power in its cry was, in essence, like the Life Magic Power of Daisies and the Chaotic Magic Power in Gillyweed Pus: a magical trait produced, contained, or released by Plant Itself.

It was simply an extremely dangerous trait.

Since a Daisy's Magic Power could be guided and transferred, then Mandrakes should theoretically also possess the possibility of being guided.

However, their Magic Power natures differed drastically. One was gentle and nourishing; the other was Furious Destruction.

Mandrakes released deadly Magic Power through the specific means of crying. This seemed to be an inborn Magic rooted in their Life Form.

To bypass the cry and directly contact or guide its source Magic Power, it might be necessary to understand the Magic Trajectory within Plant or its Convergence Nodes.

Perhaps he could begin by studying the Magic Power characteristics of Mandrake Seedlings and observing how their Magic Power changed as they grew.