Three days later, Ciel stood in the warm, humid air of the Hogwarts greenhouse, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. The patch of Lumos Shroom mycelium was visibly thicker, the delicate filaments spreading eagerly through the magically enriched soil. Above them, the reward orbs pulsed with a gentle, growing light, significantly larger than they had been just a few days prior.
"As expected," he murmured to himself, "after the Soil-Loosening Charm was promoted to Silver, the growth speed of the mycelium has increased dramatically."
He checked his internal system panel. The Lumos Charm, which had been a solid Bronze, now had a coppery sheen bleeding through its luster, a clear sign it was on the verge of advancing. The combination of his enhanced Magical Perception and the synergistic effect of the improved Loosening Charm was accelerating his progress far faster than he had anticipated. In just three days, he'd achieved what should have taken weeks.
Thinking of this, he felt a familiar surge of anticipation, the quiet thrill of a well-executed experiment yielding positive results. He was tempted to stay, to continue his work. But after a quick check of the time, he carefully put away his tools and walked out of the greenhouse.
Today was Thursday. The day of the first joint Flying lesson for Gryffindor and Slytherin. The quiet, simmering anger of the Hufflepuffs had been waiting for three days. Today, they were going to make Draco Malfoy pay a painful, unforgettable price.
The little badgers of Hufflepuff were not to be trifled with.
Back in the common room, a tense, excited energy filled the air. Professor Sprout was there, as was Neville, who looked like a soldier about to go into battle.
Seeing Ciel return, Professor Sprout's face lit up. "Ciel," she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, "how on earth did you know that Neville's grandmother would send him a Remembrall today?"
Neville stared at him, his expression a mixture of awe and bewilderment. When Ciel had first outlined the plan, he had mentioned that Neville's grandmother would likely send him a Remembrall. And sure enough, a package had arrived for him that very morning. Inside was the small, glass sphere.
Ciel just smiled. "A grandmother's love is a powerful thing," he said gently. "I've heard she's very strict with you, Neville, but I have no doubt that she cares for you deeply. She knows you often misplace things, so of course she would send you a Remembrall to help." He glanced at his aunt, his smile softening. "I knew because my own aunt loves me very much, too."
The simple words landed with a surprising weight. Professor Sprout's eyes instantly turned red, and she looked away, overwhelmed with emotion. Neville, who had always viewed his grandmother's stern demeanor with a mixture of love and fear—his Boggart, after all, took her form—felt his heart tremble. His grandmother was strict, yes, but she truly did keep everything about him in her heart. She couldn't be by his side to remind him of forgotten things, so she sent this.
A sudden, sharp pang of love and guilt welled up in his chest. "Cousin Ciel," he sniffled, his voice thick but firm. "Thank you." He secretly made a vow to himself. I can't be so clumsy anymore. I have to grow up. I won't disappoint the people who believe in me. Grandma… and Cousin Ciel…
Thinking of the part he had to play, he took a deep breath. "I won't let you down."
Ciel patted his shoulder. "I believe in you, Neville."
From across the room, the other Hufflepuffs nodded their support. "We believe in you too, Neville," one of them called out. "Let's give that bastard Malfoy a lesson he'll never forget!"
Neville clenched his fists, nodded once more, and walked out of the Hufflepuff common room with a newfound, steely resolve.
Meanwhile, the Gryffindor common room was filled with a gloomy sense of foreboding.
"Just my luck," Harry sighed, "having our first flying lesson with the Slytherins. I'm going to make a complete fool of myself in front of Malfoy."
Ron offered what comfort he could, but the mood remained grim. Just then, Neville returned, his expression tense and focused, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Neville?" Harry asked, curious. "You've been out early and back late every day this week. What have you been up to?"
A montage of scenes flashed through Neville's mind: the blur of the ground rushing up to meet him, the dizzying spins, and the ache in his arms and back. For three days, he had spent every spare moment on a secluded part of the grounds, secretly training with members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. The first time he'd gotten on a broom, he'd been so terrified he nearly fainted. But then he remembered the task Ciel had entrusted to him. The first person to ever show such unwavering faith in him. He had to do it.
So he had practiced, over and over, pushing through the fear, the nausea, and the exhaustion. He still wasn't a natural, but he was no longer a trembling amateur. He could fly. He wouldn't lose control. He could accomplish the mission his cousin had given him.
"It's nothing," he said, forcing a casual tone. "Just had a problem with my Herbology homework. Professor Sprout called me in for some extra help."
Harry and the others nodded, accepting the explanation without question. It was Neville, after all.
At half-past three, the lesson began. Madam Hooch, still haunted by the memory of Hannah's fall, was on high alert, repeatedly drilling the safety precautions into the students. But despite her best efforts, chaos erupted. Before she had even finished her countdown, Neville's broom, with him on it, shot into the sky like a rocket.
"Ahhh!" he screamed, his voice trailing behind him. "I can't control it! It has a mind of its own!"
He soared higher and higher, veering erratically toward the Forbidden Forest.
Malfoy and the other Slytherins exploded with mocking laughter. "Letting Longbottom on a broom is the biggest mistake Hogwarts has ever made!" Malfoy howled. "He'll be lucky if he doesn't end up less intelligent than a troll!"
Madam Hooch's face turned a furious shade of green. "Shut up, Draco Malfoy! Three points from Slytherin!" She suspected she was cursed. How could one week be so unlucky? "Don't any of you move!" she barked before leaping onto her own broom and speeding after Neville.
The moment she was gone, Malfoy spotted it: a small, shining sphere hanging from the branch of a tall oak tree. The Remembrall. A wicked smile spread across his face. He expertly maneuvered his broom, snatched the ball from the tree, and brandished it like a trophy.
"Look what I've got! Longbottom's Remembrall!"
"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, kicking off from the ground and engaging him in a furious chase.
But just as Harry was closing in, Neville came soaring back from the direction of the Forbidden Forest, a look of genuine panic on his face.
"Harry, stay away from that Remembrall!" he yelled.
Harry, startled by the urgency in his voice, instinctively pulled back. Malfoy seized the opportunity, putting distance between them and waving the Remembrall triumphantly. "Ha! Potter can't catch me!"
But as he gloated, he happened to glance up at one of the castle towers. A group of Hufflepuffs were standing there, watching him with mocking, expectant smiles. A cold knot of dread tightened in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong.
The next moment, the "Remembrall" in his hand shuddered, then exploded.
A thick, viscous, green-brown liquid, emitting a stench so foul it was comparable to concentrated troll dung, burst from the shattered sphere, drenching him from head to toe.
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