Mandrake

Aber stared blankly at the two of them, then yanked off his earmuffs.

"Hey—"

"—Thump, thump."

Fortunately, before he could voice his opinion, Professor Sprout tapped the table, cutting off the buzzing discussion.

"Alright, when it's safe to take off your earmuffs, I'll give two thumbs up. Now—put them on."

Snape raised an eyebrow at Aber, then promptly slipped on the pink earmuffs. In an instant, all outside noise was sealed off.

Professor Sprout rolled up her sleeves, gripped a clump of leaves firmly, and yanked it out of the soil.

What came out of the dirt wasn't roots, but a very ugly baby, with the leaves sprouting from its head.

The Mandrake's skin was a pale green, mottled with spots. The little creature flailed its tentacles, clearly screaming at the top of its lungs.

Professor Sprout pulled a large flowerpot from under the table, stuffed the ugly baby inside, and buried it with damp, dark compost until only the tuft of leaves showed.

She dusted the dirt off her hands, gave them two thumbs up, then removed her own earmuffs.

"I don't think any of you would want to miss Christmas with your families," she said calmly, "so make sure you wear your earmuffs while working."

"Oh, and watch out for the venomous tentacles—they're teething," Professor Sprout added. "If there's an accident, you don't need to use nonverbal spells in my class. Your safety is obviously more important."

"Besides, no one will hear your incantations today anyway." She patted the leaves of a Mandrake in front of her, making it retract a tentacle that had been creeping toward her.

"Hello, I'm Patrick Aber," Aber finally seized the chance to speak. "Want to join our group? Honestly, I think your vibe really fits with ours..."

"All weirdos, right?" Snape thought to himself. Aber used to enjoy reading quietly when he was alone—how had he turned into such a chatterbox?

There wasn't much time for talking after that. They put their earmuffs back on and focused on the Mandrakes.

It was no easy task. The Mandrakes didn't want to be pulled from the soil, but once exposed to the air, they didn't want to go back in.

They writhed, gnashed their teeth, and swung their venomous tentacles, trying to break free from the witches' and wizards' grip.

While dealing with the second Mandrake, Snape slipped up and let it grab Aber from behind.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

He quickly aimed his wand at the Mandrake, trying to separate it from Aber.

But it held on too tightly, lifting Aber into the air along with it.

Aber flailed in midair, thrashing his limbs, his mouth moving nonstop.

He looked just like another fully grown Mandrake.

Seeing this, Pandora laughed so hard she could barely breathe. She clutched her stomach, rocking back and forth.

Snape couldn't help but stop waving his arm. A fanged, monstrous figure flashed through his mind, and though he felt a twinge of guilt, he figured he could down three bowls of rice just looking at this scene.

"Ah, is my soul no longer as pure as it used to be?" he wondered.

Luckily, the ugly little baby had limited strength. Before long, it lost its grip and dropped Aber.

Snape quickly aimed his wand at Aber, saving him from a face-first fall.

But now the Mandrake was free. It tapped its tentacles on the ground, sprinting between the silently screaming students.

Seeing Aber's furious expression and lips moving like a spring-loaded mechanism, Snape decisively kept his earmuffs on. He decided pink wasn't so bad after all—it really did suit him.

The Herbology lesson ended in chaos.

The emeralds in the Slytherin hourglass, set in a niche in the Great Hall, sank a little lower as a result.

"Why are they avoiding you?" Pandora asked.

They were crossing the Entrance Hall to get lunch when a few younger students, spotting Snape, nervously cleared a path.

"Out of respect for me," Snape said calmly. "It's their genuine recognition of who I am."

Aber snorted a laugh, then remembered he was supposed to be angry and immediately put on a stern face.

"Next time someone calls you a weird girl, tell me. I can help you earn the same respect."

"Oh... well..." Pandora shrugged. "It's fine, I guess. They probably just think I'm a bit odd."

"Alright, your call," Snape said. "Miss Pandora, come over here and have lunch with us."

"But this is the Slytherin table."

"No, this is Hogwarts' table." Snape tugged her sleeve. "Come on. I really don't get it—what's the point of all this infighting? Does the magical world have some 'Founders' Law Unchangeable' nonsense? I ought to have a word with the Headmaster about it sometime."

He glanced at the staff table. The Headmaster's seat was empty.

Thinking it over, Snape realized he hadn't seen Dumbledore in days. Ever since their late-night talk, Dumbledore's seat had often been vacant.

Had his words prompted Dumbledore to start investigating early?

Well, no use dwelling on it. He'd probe the next time they met.

After Snape polished off three full plates of food, Aber seemed to have finally cooled down.

"Want to come watch the afternoon Quidditch tryouts?" he asked Pandora. "We'll see what brooms they're using."

"I'll pass," she said. "I've still got a few experiments to finish. Better get on it."

After watching Pandora skip up the stairs with her hands in her pockets, they left the castle and headed toward the Quidditch pitch.

Although neither of them had much interest in Quidditch, Aber's father had written last week asking him to survey the school's broomstick market. Under the temptation and threat of Galleons, Aber immediately surrendered.

At the time, reading the letter, he said to Snape, "No one can say no to Galleons, including you. A thirty-seventy split, how about it?"

"Deal," Snape replied curtly.

By the time they took their seats in the stands, the tryouts were already about halfway through. Half the students from Slytherin House, first-year through seventh-year, had shown up.

The younger students mostly clutched nervously at a few battered old brooms picked from the school storage, while the sixth- and seventh-years looked tall and imposing, their presence intimidating.

"I recall the Quidditch team has a dedicated training room, right?" Snape asked.

"Yes, Sevy, are you thinking about working out again?" Aber said. "Feel your stomach—you've just gotten a bit rounder lately."

"So I plan to consult a professional later." Snape pointed at Montague, the captain of the Slytherin team.