The Room of Requirement

The Quidditch season continued on.

But Glenn had lost interest in watching another match.

One Slytherin versus Gryffindor showdown was already enough to make up for missing out on Quidditch a century ago.

For Glenn, food, cultivation, and the animal husbandry he hadn't yet had a chance to try were where his true interests lay.

Beyond improving his ability to handle various emergencies and strengthen his combat skills, experiencing the process of gradual growth was also quite fascinating.

Under Glenn's careful care, the White Fresh had completed self-pollination, and after the past half-month, it had successfully produced eight dark brown fruits.

This meant there would be eight White Fresh seeds available for planting inside!

On the day the fruits were about to fall, he took a rare day off and kept a close watch in his dormitory.

When, accompanied by a soft sound, the fruit wobbled precariously on the branch.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The next moment, the fruit that had detached from the branch hadn't yet fallen into the soil before Glenn intercepted it midair with a Levitation Charm.

The reason for this was that White Fresh fruit had two layers of shell.

The outermost shell was the hardest, serving to protect and stabilize the magic within.

Between the outermost shell and the second layer, a certain amount of magic was stored, which could sense whether the seed had touched the soil.

Once it felt contact with the soil, that portion of magic would dissolve the outermost shell.

And this magic would also merge with the dissolved outer shell, soaking it into the soil, creating a suitable growing environment for the true seed inside the second shell.

Generally speaking, in the wild, this wasn't a problem.

But in a small pot, it absolutely couldn't be done that way—it would mean two White Fresh plants, one big and one small, appearing in the same pot.

Rescue measures had to be taken; if not, the result would only be both plants dying, with almost no other possibility.

That was why Glenn waited early before the fruit hit the ground, to prevent it from touching the soil and dissolving the outermost shell.

"I need to find a place to plant them." After putting away the eight seeds, Glenn thought to himself.

In fact, he'd had this idea before, but it hadn't been urgent back then.

But now that the seeds were in hand, the sooner he got started, the better.

Yet aside from the greenhouses, where in Hogwarts was there a place suitable for large-scale planting?

Not to mention the hard requirements like pots, soil, and suitable climate.

And if he wanted the White Fresh to grow at its current quality, it even had to be bathed in moonlight...

To put it bluntly, this was almost a fantasy; most people who heard it would probably think it was a joke.

But sometimes, magic was just that miraculous.

Not to mention that Hogwarts Castle itself was built with ancient magic—so making a wish come true wasn't impossible.

With that thought, Glenn set down the now somewhat bare White Fresh plant, stood up, opened his dormitory door, and walked out.

"Halt! Fight me! You filthy Dark wizard, you can't run from a friend of Merlin!" In the corridor, a loud, gruff voice rang out with piercing clarity.

If a new student who had just arrived at Hogwarts heard this roar while walking alone in the hallway, they'd probably be scared out of their wits.

In fact, Hogwarts hadn't been invaded by Dark wizards—at least not yet.

The direction of the voice came from a portrait in a frame, belonging to an irritable old man riding a fully armed, fat pony—Sir Cadogan.

In the students' eyes, he was a mad knight.

Because he would always use his loud voice to stop them and say incomprehensible things about dueling to the death.

If he noticed someone but they pretended not to see him, Sir Cadogan would even ride his pony, hopping from frame to frame to chase them, loudly calling them "coward" at every step.

Though it was a bit annoying, you couldn't actually reach into the frame to hit him.

So most students preferred to avoid the corridor where Sir Cadogan was, taking a detour instead.

But for Glenn, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing—at least this path made it harder for people to notice him.

As for what to do if Sir Cadogan in the frame pestered him...

"Stop and duel, you mongrel dog!" Sir Cadogan shouted unceremoniously at a student who was about to pass by not far away.

"Coward of Slytherin, come back, you fleeing coward! Don't back down, fight me!"

Hearing this, the student in the black-and-green Slytherin robes stopped in his tracks.

"What? Scared? Come taste the edge of my sword!" Perhaps because it had been too long since a student had stopped in front of him, Sir Cadogan drew a broken iron sword from its scabbard and spoke loudly while riding his pony.

Unexpectedly, this student actually turned around.

A handsome face, an extraordinary bearing, and a kind smile on his face.

"Very well, Sir." With those words, Glenn drew a portrait with an exquisite frame from his money pouch and placed it on the wall beside Sir Cadogan.

Within the frame was none other than Glenn's own likeness, though more mature.

About four or five years older—by Hogwarts reckoning, roughly a fifth-year student.

The moment the frame touched the wall, the "Glenn" inside stirred, nodded to the real Glenn, then walked to the edge of the frame and vanished.

Hearing the commotion behind him, Glenn continued toward his destination, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He'd wanted to do this for a long time.

Eventually, he stopped on the eighth floor of Hogwarts.

More precisely, before the blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet.

Professor Weasley had mentioned a century ago that one only needed to concentrate and walk past the corridor three times.

Thinking this, Glenn focused his mind...

The next moment, before he could even complete three passes, an ancient wooden door materialized within the wall, following ornate patterns.

Almost as if from thin air.

Seeing this, Glenn stepped forward and turned the bronze handle on the door.

Closing his eyes, he pictured a familiar scene...

With a soft click, the bronze handle turned.

The wooden door swung slowly open, revealing a resplendent hall of vast, boundless space...

This was the Room of Requirement.