Regulus, the Good Shovel

Regulus bowed slightly, his attitude respectful. "The Magic Power of the Poison Tentacle doesn't follow a fixed path; it diffuses and permeates, operating on a completely different logic than the Whomping Willow." Sprout nodded, tapping his fingers lightly on the watering can beside him. "One is slow, one is fast; one is quiet, one is violent." Her brown eyes looked at him, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes crinkling, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "You also plan to research the paralysis effect of the Poison Tentacle?"

"Not for now," Regulus shook his head. "Just observing."

He stayed to fulfill his promise.

Professor Sprout told him about the Magic Power properties and tendencies of the Whomping Willow. Last year, he learned the words Conduction and Vibration, which led to the Disintegration Charm.

Perhaps he could have figured it out himself even without the professor's explanation, but it would have taken him much longer.

In his mind, the Whomping Willow" was just a grumpy tree that would whip people, nothing more.

If the professor hadn't pointed out the fundamental properties of Conduction and oscillation, he probably wouldn't have bothered figuring out the attack mechanism for a willow tree that liked to attack people. Of course, you never know.

Perhaps one day when he was really bored, he strolled over to that tree and got a couple of slaps, which actually piqued his interest.

More likely, he will do what all normal young wizards do: avoid the tree until graduation.

He felt grateful to the professor.

Moreover, the professor said that if one day they really find the Whomping Willow" and discover anything, remember to tell her.

Regulus said directly, "Professor, the research on the Whomping Willow has yielded results."

Sprout paused for a moment as she wiped her apron.

She looked at Regulus, her eyes brightening.

She hung the last pair of scissors back on the wall, pulled up a stool, and patted the stool next to her. "Sit down and talk."

Regulus sat down beside him, picked up a piece of withered vine he had just trimmed from the Stone Platform, and placed it on the table between the two of them. He briefly explained the research path.

Starting from the Conduction and oscillation taught by the professor, we establish a connection with Natural Magic Power and the Whomping Willow, perceive its complete attack mechanism up close, and replicate the Magic Power model of oscillation Conduction.

"The key is the Oscillation Stacking. Each time the 'Strike the Whomping Willow' is struck, the resulting shock will automatically seek out the cracks left by the previous strike and go deeper along the fracture, doubling the efficiency each time."

I extracted this logic and turned it into a spell.

He raised his wand and whispered a spell.

A thin, yellowish-brown beam of incantation shot from the tip of the staff, its edges trembling slightly, conveying a visible instability, before striking the tip of the withered vine. The beam hit the vine tip, leaving its surface intact. The next moment, fine cracks appeared on the surface of the vine tip, rapidly deepening and expanding until the entire vine tip shattered into a pile of tiny fragments scattered on the Stone Platform.

It shattered silently, without any sound or light.

Sprout stared at the pile of slag on the Stone Platform, stretched out his finger, picked up a little and put it in his palm, rubbed two fingers together to feel the texture. It was broken very evenly, the particles were about the same size, and it was completely broken from the inside out.

"It breaks from the inside," she said softly, her eyes appreciative. "It has the same effect as Whomping Willow branch, but you've made it controllable."

Regulus nodded, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

The professor remained silent for a moment, cradling the crumbs in his palm, before saying something Regulus hadn't expected.

"This would be great for loosening the soil."

Regulus's lips twitched slightly.

The professor either didn't notice his expression, or he did but didn't pay attention, and continued speaking on his own.

"Behind the Greenhouse, there's a layer of compacted clay three feet below the surface. Every spring, I spend three days using Magic to loosen it layer by layer, until my arms ache."

She gently poured the fragments from her palm onto the edge of the Stone Platform, gathering them with her fingers. "If we could use this to break open the hardened layer from the inside..." She looked at Regulus, her eyes filled with relief and heavy anticipation.

Before her wasn't a second-grader who could invent spells on his own; before her was a remarkably useful shovel.

Regulus's eye twitched.

The same thing, he and his father thought about how to make it bigger, while the professor thought about how to use it smaller.

What the father and son saw was the weapon's potential, its upper limit, how large a target it could take down, and whether it could destroy a city.

Professor Sprout saw the potential of the tool: could it break up the hardened clay layer and save three days of loosening the soil? He pulled himself together and nodded respectfully. "Professor, you're right. It's perfect for loosening the soil. Lower the intensity, control the area, break up only the clods without damaging the roots—it's entirely feasible."

The professor patted his knee with satisfaction, his eyes showing even greater approval. This child was sensible.

"Come help me loosen the soil when spring comes."

Regulus straightened his back slightly, his expression almost one of delight, his tone brimming with obvious joy. "No problem, Professor." The professor chuckled, stood up, and dusted off his apron. "Wait here for a moment."

She turned and walked deeper into the Greenhouse, squatted down in front of two rows of planting troughs planted with Jumping Bulb, stuck her fingers into the soil to test the moisture, flipped the leaves over to look at them, and took out a small shovel to loosen the surface soil.

Regulus sat on the stool waiting, sunlight streaming down from the glass roof, dust motes slowly drifting down in the beams of light.

The professor returned shortly after, wiping his hands on his apron.

She sat down again, her gaze fixed on the pile of shards, her tone still gentle. "Mr. Black, what you learned from the Whomping Willow was how to smash things."

The Whomping Willow out doesn't know what it's hitting; its branches strike whatever they touch. Your spell is different; you have a target, you choose what to smash.

Her gaze fell on Regulus's face, her eyes devoid of any seriousness; she looked like a witch who had taught for twenty years looking at a student she had been observing for a long time.

"The difference between you and a tree is that you can choose what to break and what not to break."

Regulus met the professor's gaze and nodded earnestly. "I understand, Professor."

Destruction is a capability, as is choosing not to destroy.

He recalled Professor Slughorn's words, "Stay away from things that are irreversible."

The two professors spoke differently in content, but their points were similar.

Professor Slughorn was reminding him to be mindful of the costs, while Professor Sprout was reminding him to be mindful of the choices.

One perspective is from the perspective of consequences, and the other is from the perspective of capabilities.

The Hogwarts professors were all guiding him in their own ways.

No one forced him to take a particular path, no one grabbed his arm and told him he had to do it this way; they simply said something softly as he passed by, and then watched him walk on his own.

Slughorn drew a line for him with phase transitions and irreversibility, while Sprout pointed him in the direction of breaking and not breaking. He might not listen, and even if he did listen, he might not act on it; even if he acted, he might not be right; and even if he was right, he might not agree with it.

But he could sense the professors' good intentions; they were all gentle and kind, without any pressure.

The professor didn't continue, stood up, and dusted off his apron. "Just remember that."

As the conversation came to an end, Regulus's gaze unconsciously swept towards the depths of the Greenhouse.

In the corner, a glass cabinet with Temperature-Maintaining Charm stood quietly, a thin layer of mist condensing on the inner wall of the glass, making it difficult to see what was inside.

But he knew what was inside: Sunlight Ebony Shrub.

A small shrub less than 30 centimeters tall, with branches as black as charcoal, pure white leaves, and fine golden threads flowing through its veins.

The only remaining tree at Hogwarts, left behind by a Ravenclaw headmaster three hundred years ago.

Legend has it that they only grow in ancient church cemeteries or sites of saints' martyrdom, requiring an environment of extreme purity and light, and are a concrete manifestation of faith.

The professor followed his gaze, then looked back, and said casually, "It's still there."

Regulus was still watching, and to be honest, he was envious.

This thing is different from the Whomping Willow".

Even if the Whomping Willow is rare, it at least has a place of origin. It grows in Bulgaria and Romania. With money, resources, and favors, you can always get your hands on it.

Sunlight Ebony Shrub cannot grow wild; their growth conditions are too demanding. It's not that they can survive just because you give them certain soil and temperatures; they require a specific type of environment.

You can't create an old church cemetery, nor can you replicate a site of saints' martyrdom.

This plant is beyond our reach; it's the only one left in all of UK, and it's been living in this glass case for three hundred years.

There are probably only a handful of them in all of Europe.

Sprout looked at him. "You're not ready yet."

Regulus looked away and lowered his head. "I know."

The professor stared at him for a while longer.

She knew the little guy wasn't giving up; she'd noticed it the last time he came—he wanted to touch her, but she could also tell he'd restrained himself.

Another semester has passed, and he still has the same attitude.

She shook her head and said nothing more.

Regulus let out a soft sigh, putting those thoughts aside. Just as the professor had said, he wasn't ready yet.

Then he looked up and steered the conversation back on track. "Professor, there's something I'd like to ask you for help with."

Sprout sat back down, his tone casual. "Speak."

Regulus coughed lightly. "One willow was lost during the research on the Whomping Willow."

The professor's expression changed slightly; the corners of his mouth turned down a little, his eyes filled with regret, and his voice was somewhat urgent. "How bad is it?"

"Excessive Magic Power drain has nearly shut down the circuits." Regulus lowered his head, looking embarrassed.

Then he quickened his pace. "I used Natural Magic Power to restart the cycle, and the root system's absorption channels have been reopened. It's recovering, but very slowly." He concluded, "The tips of the branches have sprouted new buds, and the edges of the scars are darkening. It's not dead, but it's far from healthy. I'd like to ask you if there's any way to help it recover faster."

Sprout took a deep breath. "A mature Whomping Willow, do you know how many years it takes for a mature Whomping Willow to grow?"

Regulus lowered his head slightly, his tone more respectful than before, even a little obedient. He knew the professor wasn't blaming him, nor could he; the professor was just feeling sorry for the tree.

"You said that the seedling stage lasts thirty years, and the growth stage lasts thirty years."

"Where did you come from?"

"Bulgarian Magical Reserve"

Sprout tapped his fingers lightly twice on his knee.

The Whomping Willow in the Bulgarian Magical Reserve —that's not something that happened sixty years ago.

The wild trees there have a recorded history dating back to the 12th century AD, and there are many ancient trees that are hundreds of years old in the valleys of the Balkan Peninsula.

She took another deep breath to calm herself down.

She wasn't blaming Regulus; the tree belonged to the Black family, and they brought it there specifically for research.

Orion Black is willing to provide his son with resources of this caliber as experimental subjects is a matter for the Black family.

Research inevitably involves losses, especially the study of Magic Plant Magic Power. In her decades of teaching, she had witnessed countless instances of students ruining materials.

This time, however, it was Whomping Willow" that was ranked high on the list of protected Magical Plant. She was genuinely heartbroken, but it was not her place to blame anyone.

But it's an ancient tree that's hundreds of years old.

She was silent for a moment, then asked, "Where?"

Regulus continued obediently, "Cornwall, my family's Plantation."

The professor glanced at Regulus.

She certainly knew about the Black family's Plantation in Cornwall, a prominent asset in the UK Magical Plant academic circle. It had a stable output of everything from Mandrake to Dragon Blood Fern, and had been operating there for at least two hundred years.

But the Plantation was planted with Whomping Willow, and her professional curiosity skipped a beat. "Two?"

"Two plants. The healthy one was untouched, while the one whose Magic Power was drained by me was the one that suffered damage."

The professor felt a pang of sympathy, but quickly returned to his professional demeanor.

The presence of two damaged adult Whomping Willow of the Beating Tree* plants simultaneously means that the difference in Magic Power between healthy and damaged states can be compared, which is of direct value for the study of Whomping Willow *.

Moreover, the damaged plant's Natural Magic Power maintained a weak cycle, requiring external intervention to recover, which is almost unprecedented in the history of Magical Plant cultivation.

It's certainly possible to do it, but almost no one has the opportunity to face this situation.

Mature "Whomping Willow" are so rare, who would bother to drain the Magic Power of Whomping Willow and stop it from working?

But there is one now, right in Cornwall.

She was the most authoritative witch in the field of Magical Plant in all of UK, so it was impossible for her not to be interested in this case, much less refuse it.

"I have things to do at the Greenhouse on Saturday morning, but I'm free in the afternoon," she stood up, her tone decisive. "Will you come pick me up, or will I go by myself?" Regulus also stood up. "I'll pick you up at the Greenhouse entrance on Saturday afternoon at two o'clock."

Sprout nodded, then pointed a finger at him, the tip still covered in mud, and said with a hint of exasperation, "Mr. Black, next time before you conduct your research, think about how you can avoid destroying a single tree."

Regulus's lips curled slightly upward. "Try your best."

The professor snorted, clearly not believing him, but didn't pursue the matter. He turned and walked deeper into the Greenhouse, squatting down in front of the wilted Jumping Bulb and continuing his work.

As Regulus stepped out of the Greenhouse, the air suddenly cooled down.

In January in the Scottish Highlands, the sun was already setting, casting long shadows on the cobblestone path as it slanted behind the Castle towers. He walked along the path toward the Castle.

Above the treetops of the distant Forbidden Forest, a star shone brighter than the others.