"It's not just people. Some plants are fickle scumbags who fall for everyone they meet, too."
Brian shot the Poet Trumpet Grass a disdainful glance. Not bothering to say more, he gathered up his waterfall of long green hair, turned around, and pushed through the door. He intended to ask Professor Sprout exactly what had made his hair so green and so long.
If he went to the Great Hall now, Professor Flitwick would be delighted to hang some small Wizard Crackers on him, the thirteenth Christmas tree. Playing a Christmas tree was certainly fun, but Brian would rather play Santa Claus.
To avoid causing a commotion, he had to deal with this green hair as soon as possible.
"No, beautiful lady, don't leave me, please?" the Poet Trumpet Grass said ardently. "What beautiful curves! Of everyone I've ever fallen for at first sight, you're my favorite!"
"Shut up." With that, Brian closed the door, shutting out the voice.
This pot of Poet Trumpet Grass probably had chronic problems with both its eyes and its mind. He decided to remind the little Whomping Willow to stay away from this fellow-well, even though the little Whomping Willow had never been interested in it anyway.
A somewhat smaller room came into view.
The temperature and humidity were both higher than in the larger room outside, and most of the plants inside were dangerous ones Brian recognized-Mandrakes, Biting Cabbages, Venomous Tentacula...
These dangerous plants almost filled the room, leaving little space for people. This was probably already the result of Professor Sprout's quick tidying earlier. She was standing at a table.
"Chet, you're here-?"
Hearing the door close, Professor Sprout spoke as she turned around.
The sight of Brian with his flowing long hair immediately startled her. Her eyes widened involuntarily, and both