Pandora

Snape and Aber left the castle together, crossing the lush vegetable patch toward the greenhouses, where all kinds of magical plants were cultivated.

By the time they approached the greenhouses, quite a few students had already gathered on the lawn, waiting for Professor Sprout in small groups.

Snape spotted the Whomping Willow from afar. At that moment, it lazily stretched its branches in the breeze, its newly grown leaves nearly translucent beneath the sunlight.

His thoughts could not help drifting back to a full-moon night last term.

Urged on by Sirius's malicious "prank," Snape had poked the knot on the Whomping Willow's trunk with a long stick and entered the tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack.

At the other end of the tunnel, he had caught a hurried glimpse of a savage Werewolf with bared fangs.

Just before the Werewolf could pounce on him, James Potter had rushed over and yanked him back.

That was how James had saved his life.

Yet Snape clearly remembered that, after Peter Pettigrew escaped amid the chaos, Dumbledore told Harry, "When one Wizard saves another Wizard's life, a certain bond forms between them."

Later, Pettigrew had even been strangled alive in front of Harry by his own silver hand in an exceedingly bizarre manner.

A wave of worry rose in Snape's heart. He could not help fearing that one day in the future, that bond might lead to consequences neither foreseeable nor controllable.

"What are you spacing out for?" Aber nudged him with an elbow.

"Nothing."

Coming back to himself, Snape raised his eyes and looked through the crowd.

Remus Lupin—still in human form—stood there, looking somewhat pale and haggard.

Snape privately guessed that it was probably because the full moon had been a few days ago. Lupin must have just endured another painful transformation.

Just as Snape's thoughts began wandering in all directions, Professor Sprout strode over from across the lawn.

She was a squat witch, with a patched hat pinned atop her floating hair. Her clothes were always stained with plenty of dirt, and she liked looking at everyone with a cheerful smile.

"Today, we're going to the Third Greenhouse," Professor Sprout said brightly. "From now on, we'll be studying some more interesting plants there."

The students murmured with interest. Before their sixth year, they had only entered the Third Greenhouse once.

Compared with the First Greenhouse they were familiar with, the plants in the Third Greenhouse were more interesting—and more dangerous.

Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and opened the door to the Third Greenhouse.

Snape caught the scent of damp earth and fertilizer, mixed with an intense floral fragrance. Flowers as large as Hagrid's umbrella dangled from the ceiling.

Professor Sprout walked behind a bench in the center of the greenhouse. More than a dozen pairs of earmuffs in various colors lay on it.

Once the students had all filed into the greenhouse, she cleared her throat and said, "Today, we're repotting Mandrakes again. Now, who remembers what characteristics Mandrakes have?"

After two weeks of classes, Snape had noticed that students from every house had become too lazy to raise their hands. Someone would always rush to answer anyway.

"Mandrakes, also known as Mandrake roots, are powerful restorative agents. They are an important component in most antidotes, but they are also dangerous..."

Mm, yes, Snape silently recited. 'Entirely correct, ten points to Gryffindor!'

"Very good, ten points to Gryffindor," Professor Sprout said, voicing exactly what everyone had expected. "It seems you haven't forgotten what I taught you in your second year."

Still, looking at the more than a hundred green-and-purple seedlings before him, Snape thought it would indeed be best to wait for this batch of Mandrakes to mature before considering entering the Chamber of Secrets.

"The Mandrakes we're handling today still need some time to grow up," Professor Sprout said, pointing at a row of deep pots. "Hearing their cries at most means you'll spend an unforgettable Christmas in the Hospital Wing."

"Here, this one's for you." Aber had snatched two pairs of pink fluffy earmuffs and handed them to Snape with a smug look.

"Would you mind explaining why you picked this color?" Snape asked in bewilderment. "Why?!"

"They look great. I think this color suits us both." Aber casually put on his own earmuffs.

Snape looked desperately toward the bench—every other color of earmuffs had already been snapped up.

"You've gone too far! How did I never see your true colors before—"

"—What did you say?" Aber tapped his earmuffs with a finger. "I can't hear you—"

"~!@#￥%..."

"You two look like a little married couple having a fight."

Snape heard a gentle voice.

A girl with a head of messy, dirty, waist-length golden hair stood beside them. Around her neck hung a necklace strung with Butterbeer corks.

She had light-colored eyes, equally pale eyebrows, and a faint smile on her face. There was something distinctly unusual about her.

Luna?

A bouncing, elf-like figure immediately surfaced in Snape's mind.

He had never noticed her before.

Of course, in the past, those bright green eyes had probably been the only thing in his sight.

"You're that odd girl, Pandora Flahos," Aber shouted loudly.

Clearly, the earmuffs had affected his control over his volume.

Pandora did not get angry because of it.

She merely blinked her large eyes and asked gently, "Do you call me an odd girl too?"

With that, she turned and walked toward an empty table on the other side.

"Wait," Snape called after her, casually giving Aber a knock on the head. "His brain doesn't work quite right. Don't mind him.

"There are still empty seats here. Why don't you sit here instead?"

"Okay." Pandora happily sat down across from Snape.

"Did you know?" she said mysteriously. "Mandrake cries are actually a healing magic. When paired with an incantation in Punic, they can have miraculous effects.

"Three hundred years ago, a witch named Elfrida cured a vampire's sunlight allergy with the cries of Mandrakes..."

Listening to her rambling words, Snape could say with complete certainty that the girl before him had to be Luna's mother.

When Luna was nine, Pandora would die in an accident caused by a failed magical experiment.

Yet now, she stood before Snape, vividly sharing her wild and fanciful ideas.

Judging from her delighted expression, perhaps no one had ever been willing to patiently listen to her talk on and on like this.

Light filtered through the greenhouse glass and fell across her profile.

The sunlight was wonderful today.

Thanks to Lingzhi for the first monthly vote.

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