Eleanor Prepares for Battle

On the morning of the first Saturday of May, Regulus placed his final assignment paper on Professor Flitwick's desk.

I visited four professors' offices this morning, reading three articles on Transfiguration, two on Charms, one on Defense Against the Dark Arts, and one on Herbology.

McGonagall's assignment should be submitted first, which shows a reasonable attitude. The vice principal personally urged her to submit her work, so it wouldn't be appropriate to submit it last.

As for Potions, since the dean has given special permission not to pay it, then we won't pay it; we can't let the old professor down.

Actually, writing these things isn't difficult. With his current knowledge base, writing a second-year paper is just a matter of putting pen to paper.

He didn't even need to lift a finger; he could just sit in the Library, his quill pen writing by itself, while he flipped through the Alchemy textbook he'd brought back from Marseille, occasionally glancing up to check on the progress of his thesis.

It's pure Magic Manipulation; the handwriting is his own, down to the exact angle of the pen strokes. Who can say it wasn't written by him?

After handing in my assignment, it was still early. The sun was shining brightly outside the Castle. In early May, the Scottish Highlands had finally weathered the rainy season. The air was dry, and the wind carried the scent of grass.

Regulus emerged from the Castle gates and walked towards the Black Lake, without a destination.

Baruk perched on his left shoulder, his palm-sized body huddled at the collar of his school uniform, his spider head peeking out, eight amber eyes scanning everything around him.

After walking along the Black Lake for about fifteen minutes, a breeze stirred the lake, creating thin ripples that flowed from west to east.

Several newly hatched dragonflies skimmed the water's surface, their wings shimmering like transparent fragments of light in the sunlight.

People sat in twos and threes on the lawn by the lake; Hufflepuff were having a picnic on blankets, Ravenclaw were reading and taking notes, and a few young Gryffindor wizards were skipping stones on the lake.

As they passed the bend in the lakeshore, Baruk's spider head suddenly turned to the left, the white spots around its eight eyes flashed, and the pure white halo was not very noticeable in the sunlight.

Regulus noticed the unique Magic Fluctuation that the Bowtruckle Module emitted when activated; it was sensing the surrounding plants.

The ryegrass on the meadow, the reeds by the lake, and the Beech at the edge of the Forbidden Forest in the distance—in Baruk's perception, these plants were probably an open net, with every root and every vein of every leaf emitting a faint signal.

While in France, it had the young vines on the west slope to care for it every day, the spider web irrigation system, the exchange of Natural Magic Power, and the sensory connection established between it and the plants. During that time, its sensory abilities were used to their fullest extent, and the white spots around its eight eyes were almost always lit up.

Now that she's back at Hogwarts, she's shrunk to the size of a palm and clings to him, her daily activities limited to going from her Dormitory to the Great Hall to the Library.

It itself was unwilling to return to the Forbidden Forest. The current Baruk was a civilized spider, used to human society and living in the wizard's fireplace. If it were asked to go back to squat in the depression with Aragog, it would probably think that the place was cold and damp, with no Dragon Meat, and only a group of poor relatives crawling on the spider web.

This ability is idle; it flashes even when passing by a clump of bushes, like a nearsighted person squinting at a blurry shadow.

We need to find something for it to do.

Regulus walked and thought.

Keeping a plant in your Dormitory is fine, but Slytherin Dungeon really doesn't get any sunlight; the view from the window is of the Black Lake, so it's gloomy even during the day.

But Baruk senses that plants don't need sunlight. The Bowtruckle Module is designed to work even in the dark. The growth of roots in the soil, the flow of water in the stem, and the opening and closing of stomata on the leaves are all signals that are unaffected by light.

Large plants are inconvenient to keep in Dormitory, but a palm-sized Baruk doesn't need a large trellis; a small pot is enough to keep it active and maintain its sensory abilities.

The plants themselves need to be selected; the damp and cold environment of a cellar is not suitable for all plants.

Spider silk secretions can be corrosive to the roots of some plants. It's best to find varieties that don't reject spider silk, which is also relatively convenient.

Although Baruk has a plant affinity, he is, after all, an Acromantula. He can do things like watering and loosening the soil, but he easily makes a mess of everything.

Thinking of plants, my mind wandered to Eleanor Bones, a third-year Hufflepuff student who was quite knowledgeable in Herbology.

Thinking of Eleanor naturally brings to mind Mandrake, and thinking of Mandrake brings to mind Sirius plucking leaves from other plants.

Regulus's lips twitched slightly.

The gentle slopes and meadows on the southern shore of Black Lake are Hufflepuff's traditional territory, and they like to spend their weekends there when the weather is nice.

I had nothing to do, so I went to take a look.

A dozen or so Hufflepuff sat scattered on the gentle slope. Some had spread out blankets, and a few were lying on them flipping through the Witch Weekly, laughing and joking, their heels swinging back and forth in the air. Some were playing a game of Exploding Snap in a circle. Near the lake, a few older students lay flat in the sun, their robes covering their faces as shade.

Eleanor Bones and Susan Payne were at the very edge, slightly away from the crowd.

Eleanor squatted on the grass, with a small flowerpot in front of her. Something was planted in it; the leaves had just sprouted from the soil, a tender green tinged with yellow, and the edges were still curled up.

She was fiddling with the soil with her fingers, scraping a piece of dried moss off the rim of the pot, her sleeves rolled up to her forearms, her fingers covered in mud.

Her light brown hair was tied in a loose bun, with a few stray strands falling around her ears. The wind blew them onto her cheeks, and she wiped them with the back of her hand, leaving a mud mark on her face.

Payne sat nearby, leaning against the trunk of an old willow tree with his legs stretched out, slowly turning the pages of a book, occasionally glancing up at the lake.

Regulus walked over.

A guy in Slytherin robe appeared on Hufflepuff's territory. He was a Black. Several Hufflepuff junior wizards looked up, their gazes varying – some curious, some wary, some just watching the spectacle. No one stopped him, and no one greeted him.

Eleanor noticed him first, looked up, her fingers still covered in mud, and raised an eyebrow when she saw it was Regulus.

"Regulus," she smiled, revealing a canine tooth, and said generously, "Long time no see."

Regulus smiled as well, "Long time no see, Eleanor."

Then he squatted down in front of her casually, resting his knees on the grass, and glanced at the flowerpot in front of her.

Payne looked up from his book, saw Regulus, and shifted his body slightly.

I felt uncomfortable and nervous, but much better than in second grade.

Having played with Eleanor for almost three years and met Regulus a few times, I know that this man doesn't bite, at least not Eleanor, so I can't bite her.

She didn't greet him first. Her gaze moved from Regulus's face to his shoulder, and when she saw Baruk, her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer.

Baruk turned the spider's head toward her, its chelicerae extended, and Payne's shoulders retracted, its head also leaning towards the tree trunk.

Eleanor glanced at Payne, chuckled, and without saying much, rubbed her hands on the hem of her robes. "How did you end up here?"

Regulus said casually, "I came to ask you for some advice."

"I'm looking for a Magical Plant," he tilted his head and nodded his chin toward Baruk on his shoulder. "I'll keep it as a pet. There are a few conditions: it must be able to survive in a cellar, it doesn't need sunlight, it should ideally be able to get along with spider silk, and it shouldn't be averse to arthropods."

After listening, Eleanor's eyes flashed with curiosity as she stared at Baruk.

She pointed her finger in Baruk's direction, and Baruk's spider head tilted slightly, its eight eyes following her finger, and it raised its front legs and swung them in her direction.

Eleanor paused, then grinned, "It's greeting me?"

Regulus chuckled softly. "Yes, its name is Baruk."

"What species is it? I've never seen it before. A Acromantula larva? No, that doesn't seem right. Its body shape is quite different from Acromantula."

She leaned closer to examine Baruk's eye distribution and carapace patterns, her gaze serious, as if she were conducting research.

"Half-bloods." Regulus gave a vague answer that said nothing at all.

Eleanor didn't press the matter; her interest in the spider lay more in its functionality—she'd never seen a spider that could grow plants before.

"A cellar environment, no need for sunlight, and the ability to coexist with spider silk," she counted on her fingers, tilted her head, and thought for a moment, "Have you heard of the Hebrides Cave Starwhisker Vine?"

Regulus shook his head. "No."

"They prefer shade and their native environment is the sea caves in northwest Scotland. They don't need sunlight at all and rely on the residual Magic Power in the environment to maintain their survival and functions."

The vines have a faint, blue-green fluorescence in the dark, which is quite beautiful. Moreover, their root system is exceptionally flexible, allowing them to twine around various mediums, including spider silk, without rejection.

She spoke with increasing confidence, tilting her head to look at Baruk's legs. "But I'm not sure if it can tolerate the spider's touch. Some vines have a rejection reaction to arthropod fluids; the leaf edges will curl and scorch."

Regulus asked, "Are there any other options?"

"Welsh Redcap Gnome Vein Moss," Eleanor chuckled after saying the long name, "A companion plant in the mines, in environments worse than cellars—no light, damp, full of dust and metal scraps—and it still survives."

Moreover, it has a unique characteristic: it actively climbs onto surrounding three-dimensional structures; spider webs are similar to rock wall supports in a mine for it.

"It's just not very good-looking," she added, "Grayish-green, all lumpy, like it's moldy."

Regulus thought for a moment; neither its name nor its appearance suited his aesthetic. "Try Starvine, it'll look better."

Eleanor nodded and patted her chest. "Okay, I'll ask around for you, I think I can get it."

At this point in the conversation, the white dots around Baruk's eight eyes suddenly lit up again.

The spider's head peeked forward from Regulus's shoulder, heading towards the small flowerpot in front of Eleanor. The white dot lasted for about five seconds before slowly fading away.

Eleanor paused, her eyes lighting up as she stared intently at Baruk's tiny white dot, scrutinizing it. "Was it just... sensing my flower?"

Regulus said casually, "A bit talented."

"Talent?" Eleanor leaned forward. "Your spider can sense the Plant Magic Power?"

Baruk, under her gaze, stretched out its chelicerae, and with a click, began to dart back and forth on Regulus's shoulder, sometimes hiding under his collar, sometimes tucking behind his neck.

Regulus reached out and tapped its carapace, and it calmed down, lying back on his shoulder.

"So you're looking for a plant that can be nurtured using its Plant Perception?"

"Almost."

"Interesting." Eleanor stroked her chin thoughtfully.

Regulus, observing her expression, also seemed thoughtful. He then veered off-topic, "By the way, are you still cultivating your Mandrake?"

Eleanor's gaze remained on Baruk, and she casually replied, "Raising him."

Are there enough leaves?

Eleanor paused, looked up at Regulus, her smile vanished, and her brow furrowed. "Don't even mention it, he ripped me off again last month."

"You got some again?" Regulus asked with concern. "How many pieces?"

"Three pieces!" She gritted her teeth. "Last month, when I was repotting in the Greenhouse, I had just laid out the new soil when he passed by—"

Why is he wandering around the Greenhouse? He's Gryffindor!

"The new leaves had only been growing for less than a week, three in total, ripped off by the roots!" Eleanor grew angrier as she spoke, her canine teeth showing, her voice filled with pent-up resentment. "And after ripping them off, she put them back in the flowerpot, all neatly arranged, as if she'd never done anything!"

Regulus raised an eyebrow. "That's going too far?"

"That's outrageous!" Eleanor's voice rose higher and higher, her eyes blazing with anger. "I only found out the next morning when I went to water the plants in the Greenhouse that the leaves were wilted and lying on the soil, and the roots were pointing skyward. Did he think I couldn't see it?"

Regulus narrowed his eyes. "And him? How did he behave after he finished?"

Eleanor looked up and glared at him, pouting. "What kind of behavior is that? You ran into me in the Corridor the next day and acted like nothing happened, even baring your teeth and greeting me."

"You greeted each other?" Regulus raised his hand and stroked his chin.

Eleanor's eyes widened. "Did I even acknowledge him?"

Regulus asked curiously, "Did you sort it out?"

"No!" Eleanor retorted loudly, then realized she had overreacted and lowered her eyes.

Lowering her eyes, she felt even more uneasy. What was she feeling guilty about? It wasn't like she had plucked someone else's leaves.

So she looked up again and added, trying to justify herself, "Anyway, it's only three pieces, that's too much."

Regulus nodded in agreement. "That's going too far."

Eleanor stared at him suspiciously, snorted, and turned her head away. The morning sun was shining brightly, and her face was flushed.

Regulus watched her change in expression and a slight twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.

interesting.

Sirius was jumping around in front of a girl he was somewhat interested in, completely unaware of what he was doing.

Every word the girl uttered was a complaint, but the way she complained told him that she didn't hate being provoked.

The sunlight shifted from due east to slightly south, and a breeze blew across the lake, causing the light and shadows on the grass to flicker.

Several Hufflepuff in the distance stood up to collect their blankets, probably heading back for lunch.

Regulus sensed it first; a familiar Magic Power approached from afar.

There's no need to consciously perceive it; it's too familiar. Things related to blood ties automatically flood the brain, making one feel flamboyant, restless, and out of place with the relaxed lakeside atmosphere.

His lips twitched, but he didn't turn around.

Then came Eleanor, who was still talking about the Mandrake leaves and complaining about Sirius, her fingers rubbing back and forth on the edge of the flowerpot.

He suddenly stopped talking, then pulled the flowerpot closer to his chest.

She looked up, glanced around, her gaze sweeping across the lawn by the lake before quickly locking onto a spot slightly to the right behind Regulus.

His expression changed instantly; his chin lifted slightly, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips tightened and then opened, forming a sharp arc.

Prepare to meet the enemy.