Chapter 45: Dittany

Chapter 45: Dittany

Hogwarts didn't close for Halloween, so after his meeting with Sirius, Leon had travelled back overnight, missing the chance to see Lupin and Moody again. By the time he crawled out of the Whomping Willow's passage, the sky was already beginning to lighten. Classes would start in a few hours.

Early owls circled the castle, hooting softly in the pre-dawn gloom.

Leon brushed the dirt from his suit and crept back towards the castle. Thanks to his private dormitory, his illicit excursion wouldn't be discovered. Still, he resigned himself to fighting sleep through a full day of classes. History of Magic that afternoon, he suspected, would be even more torturous than usual.

Crossing the empty grounds, Leon entered the castle and went straight to his room to collect his things. First period was Herbology, and Professor Sprout had instructed everyone to bring a bucket and trowel.

With his equipment gathered, Leon headed to the Great Hall. He glanced at the House hourglasses outside and raised an eyebrow in surprise. Despite starting the term one hundred points in the negative, Slytherin had quietly climbed the ranks and was now in second place.

He didn't dwell on it, simply walking to the Slytherin table and taking his customary seat next to Malfoy.

Malfoy instinctively flinched away, lowering his head and focusing intently on his breakfast, adhering strictly to his 'keep your head down and avoid Shelby' policy.

"You're looking cheerful today, Draco," Leon remarked, casually taking the piece of buttered toast Malfoy had prepared but hadn't yet touched. "Any particular reason?"

Malfoy gritted his teeth, silently repeated his mantra, and gave a stiff shake of his head. "Nothing to be cheerful about."

He was, in fact, lying. Just yesterday, he had received another letter from his father. Besides the usual instructions to avoid associating with half-bloods and Mudbloods and to uphold the family image, Lucius Malfoy had included a reassuring postscript.

"As for that Shelby boy causing you some trouble, you needn't worry, my son. He will soon see reason and align himself with us."

Draco trusted his father implicitly; he had never been misled before. He knew his suffering was almost over. Although he couldn't understand why his father didn't simply use his influence on the Board of Governors to have the toast-stealing menace expelled, Draco had been in high spirits ever since receiving the letter. Just moments ago, he'd passed Weasley in the corridor and hadn't even sneered at his shabby robes!

Leon, of course, was oblivious to Malfoy's inner thoughts.

"You butter your toast very evenly, Draco. Getting quite skilled," Leon commented after finishing the slice. He finished his breakfast and strolled out of the Great Hall.

Just as he turned a corner near the entrance hall, the overwhelming stench of garlic hit him. Sure enough, the turbaned man materialized before him.

Quirrell looked flustered, his face pale, his steps unsteady. He seemed startled by Leon's sudden appearance, stumbled, and lurched towards him.

Leon reacted instantly, his hand instinctively going to the revolver hidden under his jacket, pressing the barrel against Quirrell's side as he pretended to steady him.

"Careful there, Professor Quirrell," Leon said, his voice dripping with false concern. "You look rather unwell."

Quirrell weakly pushed himself upright, sniffing. "Just a b-bit under the weather lately," he stammered. He thanked Leon and hurried off towards the Great Hall, mumbling something about needing to eat before attending to some business.

Watching Quirrell's retreating figure, Leon narrowed his eyes. If his suspicions were correct, Quirrell, being drained by Voldemort's parasitic presence, was nearing his breaking point. Tsk, Leon thought darkly. In one of those trashy novels from my past life, Voldemort would be some kind of demonic cultivator, draining his host's life force.

Quirrell had used the troll as a diversion a few nights ago, attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone, only to be thwarted by Snape, who had clearly been suspicious. Now, he would likely resort to desperate measures – sneaking into the Forbidden Forest to hunt unicorns.

Mulling over the plot, Leon continued on his way to the greenhouses for Herbology.

After the first lesson, which consisted entirely of Professor Sprout droning on about safety regulations, Leon had assumed Herbology would be dreadfully dull. But he had quickly realized his mistake.

The Hogwarts greenhouses were filled with an astonishing variety of magical plants. Leon found many of them fascinating – particularly the Venomous Tentacula, which could be controlled by wizards to attack enemies, and the pods of the Bubotuber, which exploded with considerable force. Unfortunately, these more interesting specimens were kept in Greenhouse Three, off-limits to younger students. All Leon could do was peer through the glass, dreaming of acquiring a few seeds.

First-years were confined to Greenhouse One, which housed only harmless, mundane plants.

Today's lesson was on harvesting Dittany.

"Each of you will find a silver harvesting knife, dragon-hide gloves, and a glass storage vial at your workstation," Professor Sprout announced from the centre of the greenhouse. After a brief introduction, she posed a question. "Can anyone tell me why we must use a silver knife?"

The Slytherins muttered amongst themselves, but no one knew the answer. Then, as one, they all turned to look expectantly at Leon.

Leon sighed inwardly but raised his hand. "Dittany stalks contain a magical sap, Professor. Contact with common metals causes a reaction that neutralizes its healing properties. Silver knives preserve the sap's potency without harming the plant."

"Excellent answer! Two points to Slytherin!" Professor Sprout beamed. "Everyone else, except Mr. Shelby, will copy page 123 of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi three times, due next lesson."

A collective groan went through the greenhouse. The Slytherins hadn't even had time to celebrate their points before they were shooting resentful glares at Leon.

"Alright now, gloves on, and begin harvesting," the professor instructed briskly. "Once you've collected the leaves, use your trowels to loosen the soil around the base. We'll be fertilizing next class."

Leon got to work immediately. Dittany essence was a powerful healing agent. He planned to ask Professor Sprout after class if he could have a small sample. He doubted she would refuse; apart from the ghost Binns and Quirrell, most of the professors seemed to quite like him.

Oh, and Snape, of course. The greasy-haired git hated everyone equally, except perhaps Harry Potter, whom he hated more.

Soon, Leon had finished harvesting his Dittany. He removed his gloves, picked up his wooden bucket, and reached inside for his trowel.

His hand froze. His eyes narrowed in surprise and suspicion.

Lying innocently at the bottom of his bucket was a small, black diary.