Little Eagle Luring Technique

One morning, nearly all the students were crammed into the Great Hall eating breakfast.

Of course, Glenn was no exception.

At that moment, he was pondering how to speed up the cultivation of White Fresh.

By definition, it was a small plant with healing and restorative magical properties.

Raising it wasn't particularly difficult, given the already cultivated seedlings and the soil Professor Sprout had prepared.

As long as one's Herbology level wasn't appallingly low, survival rates generally weren't an issue.

But the problem was time.

To get permission for more advanced plant cultivation, Professor Sprout had set Glenn a requirement: before the end of this school year, he had to cultivate at least five White Fresh plants capable of producing White Fresh essence.

That was an awkward number, because White Fresh took about six to eight weeks to mature.

If he did nothing and just let them grow on their own, survival wouldn't be a problem, but by the time he gathered five, summer vacation would probably have already started.

So during this period, Glenn had to figure out how to use his Herbology knowledge to accelerate their growth.

"If only I could get some Mooncalf dung," he thought, sitting in a chair after breakfast in the Great Hall, sipping coffee.

Mooncalf dung could speed up the ripening of White Fresh, and the moonlight magic within it could enhance its medicinal effects—it was a pretty practical fertilizer.

But if any professional herbalist found out about this idea, they'd probably be heartbroken.

After all, Mooncalf dung was quite valuable in Herbology; it only retained its magical potency if collected before sunrise on the day of collection.

So generally, for a basic herb like White Fresh, they were unwilling to fertilize it with Mooncalf dung.

But for Glenn, that wasn't an obstacle—because he wasn't a professional.

Just then, owls flew out from somewhere, swarming into the Great Hall all at once.

Carrying all kinds of letters and packages, the most eye-catching was a long, thin parcel carried by six screech owls.

Under everyone's gaze, the parcel slowly descended in front of Harry... he didn't open it.

But through Revelio, it was clear—this was a broomstick.

"Maybe I could ask someone to buy me some fertilizer?" Glenn set down his coffee cup, musing to himself.

Though it was a bit unfair to the owls that had flown all this way just to transport dung, it might still be a good idea.

But if he actually did that, the delivery location absolutely couldn't be the Great Hall—he'd get kicked out.

Beside him, Blaise Zabini finished reading his letter, his expression unchanged, but the tips of his fingers gripping the paper turned white.

"Glenn, I remember you said before that a year before you came to Hogwarts, you were adopted from an orphanage, right?"

"Mm." Glenn nodded.

That wasn't a secret. Rather than letting the school act as his guardian, finding a trustworthy wizard to be his guardian made things much more convenient in many ways.

"Then can I come to your place for Christmas?"

Faced with this sudden question, Glenn was a bit surprised.

Blaise looked at the letter in his hand and let out a cold laugh.

"My mom is holding my rich stepfather's memorial service on Christmas Day. She says she wants me to make good use of the opportunity to expand my social circle..."

"Can you imagine? One moment they're putting on a fake memorial, the next they're happily dancing at a Christmas ball. Some people even came up to me asking when the next one would be..."

Turning the letter face down on the table, Blaise took a deep breath and stopped himself.

His earlier question about spending Christmas at Glenn's place was just a spur-of-the-moment outburst of anger.

He couldn't really defy his mother's orders.

Seeing that Blaise didn't want to talk anymore, Glenn didn't press the topic.

In the silence, Glenn couldn't deny one thing: not everything could be solved with a chain of Avada Kedavra lightning or throwing a few Biting Cabbages.

In some ways, dealing with a goblin rebellion might be simpler than handling this kind of family affair.

Besides, he planned to stay at Hogwarts over this Christmas break.

Staring at the jam tarts on the table, day after day, Glenn thought for a moment but still didn't reach out.

For some reason, they tasted a bit off to him.

The good news was that there weren't many classes today.

The bad news was that there was a lot of homework.

As a transfer student who had once completed the entire Hogwarts curriculum in just one year, Glenn wasn't in a hurry about homework.

Taking it slow was fine, but the key was to be fast—he couldn't let mere homework shackle his freedom.

So at that moment, his quill scratched away, writing nonstop in a neat script.

In just a short while, he had dashed off about eight inches of essay on the parchment.

Such speed made even Hermione, sitting nearby, turn to look at him.

But she wasn't far behind either—piles upon piles of books and stacks of notes on the table would make anyone think she was a Ravenclaw student.

In truth, this was a bit too extreme.

A real first-year Ravenclaw, not far away, could only stare at them with an incredulous gaze.

First, he glanced at his half-finished essay that had stalled midway, needing to confirm that his house truly represented wisdom—Ravenclaw.

Second, he had to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

The most famously antagonistic houses in all of Hogwarts—Slytherin and Gryffindor—were actually sitting next to each other!

And they hadn't even started fighting!

Such a miracle was already curious enough, but what's more, while chatting with the Gryffindor, the Slytherin casually pulled out a potted plant and began pointing at the still-young seedling, explaining something...

As an eagle-eyed little hawk (Ravenclaw's symbol), he recognized it at once—that was a White Fresh!

In other words, the very subject of this Herbology essay.

He looked at his own essay on the table, then at the Gryffindor girl who wore an expression of sudden realization.

Driven by the desire to finish his homework early... ahem, the thirst for knowledge, this first-year Ravenclaw overcame the Slytherin's notorious reputation.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and interrupted the private conversation.

"Excuse me, I'm Anthony Goldstein. Could I possibly..."

"Sure, bring your essay over and sit beside us to listen." Glenn seemed to have expected this, pointing to the empty seat across from him.

The relationship between a worm and an eagle was nothing less than knowledge to a Ravenclaw.

As long as it was even slightly safe, the little hawks couldn't resist pecking at a fresh, plump worm.