...

Hermione beamed with satisfaction after Professor Sprout's compliment. All the books she had memorized in the past few days were finally paying off. She looked at Dyroth with a proud glint in her eye.

Professor Sprout, having covered the basic knowledge, clapped her hands to regain the class's attention. "Now, I'm going to teach you how to handle its roots. Be careful! If the juice from these roots gets on your hands, it'll make you itch for days. Make sure you wear your gloves!"

After everyone followed her instructions, Professor Sprout handed each student a jumping root. "Well done, everyone. Now, gently pick up the base of the root. Be cautious—they're very sensitive and can spring out of your hand with the slightest pressure."

Dyroth, having dealt with many magical plants while grinding for achievements in the past, handled the root with ease. For Hermione, however, it was a different story. Despite her extensive reading, she had never had any practical experience handling such plants.

As soon as Hermione grasped the root, it started to jump violently in her hands. "Ah!" she shrieked, nearly tossing it away.

"Don't panic, Hermione. Relax," came Dyroth's calm voice from behind her. His words carried a certain calmness, helping her to regain composure.

"Yes, gently—like you're handling a small animal. Now, place it in the flowerpot and cover it with soil."

With trembling hands, Hermione managed to place the root in the pot and cover it with earth. She let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Dyroth!" she said, her voice filled with gratitude.

"You're welcome," Dyroth replied casually.

Hermione gazed at him, her eyes sparkling with admiration. She snapped out of her daze after a moment, her expression turning somber.

"Dyroth, am I... am I stupid?" she asked, looking down.

"Because of what happened just now?" Dyroth asked. Hermione didn't deny it, simply lowering her head further.

Dyroth chuckled and met her eyes. "Hermione, everyone has something they're not good at. You can't let one small shortcoming overshadow all your strengths. Remember, you're a brilliant, wise Ravenclaw. When you face a problem, think about how to solve it, rather than worrying about it. Besides, this is your first time handling plants in a practical lesson—it's perfectly normal to struggle at first."

Dyroth's words clearly worked, as Hermione's disappointment faded and she smiled again.

"I understand, Dyroth!" she said brightly.

"Good, wise Ravenclaw witch," Dyroth grinned.

...

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After Herbology, Hermione and the Patil twins invited Dyroth to the library, but he politely declined. He had other plans for the evening—namely, preparing for his meeting with Hagrid. Dyroth thought it best to speak with him ahead of time, especially with all the dangerous magical creatures lurking in the Forbidden Forest. Werewolves, hippogriffs, and Hagrid's secret pet, Aragog—the danger level of that acromantula was on par with a dragon!

Dyroth didn't trust Hagrid's easygoing nature to keep him safe with just a word, so he made his way to the half-giant's hut. Outside, Hagrid was mixing something in a giant barrel. To Dyroth, the barrel looked no different from a washbasin in Hagrid's massive hands.

Seeing Dyroth approach, Hagrid set his tools down and greeted him cheerfully. "Dyroth, there yeh are! Come in, come in. Don't worry about tonight's detention, I'll take good care of yeh."

"Thanks, Hagrid. That's a relief to hear," Dyroth replied, following him inside.

The interior of Hagrid's hut surprised Dyroth. A blanket made from unicorn fur, holly wood chairs, and a collection of rare materials—unicorn horns, broken Bowtruckle branches, and various magical creature parts—were piled up haphazardly like rubbish. It was like Hagrid was guarding a treasure trove!

Noticing Dyroth's stare, Hagrid misinterpreted it. "I'm sorry 'bout the mess," he said, scratching his head sheepishly. "Not many people visit me here, so it's a bit chaotic."

Dyroth shook his head. "You misunderstood, Hagrid. I'm just amazed by all the magical materials you've gathered."

"Oh, these?" Hagrid shrugged. "I pick 'em up when I patrol the Forbidden Forest. Been collectin' 'em for years. If yeh want any of 'em, just say the word!"

To Hagrid, these materials were common, but Dyroth knew their real value. "Thanks, Hagrid. That's generous of you," Dyroth said as he took a seat.

Hagrid happily offered his signature rock cakes, placing them on the table. "Here, have a rock cake! I made 'em meself. Bet you'll love 'em!"

Dyroth attempted to pick one up, but it slipped from his hand and hit the plate. With a loud crack, the plate shattered, but the rock cake remained intact, making a metallic clang. Dyroth couldn't help but wonder if the issue was liking the cakes—or being able to bite into them at all!

Quickly shifting the conversation, Dyroth eyed the magical animal materials scattered around the hut and asked, "By the way, Hagrid, what do you usually do with the materials you bring back from the Forbidden Forest?"

Hagrid's face grew sour. "Sometimes I keep 'em, but mostly I sell 'em in Diagon Alley. Trouble is, those pureblood merchants are all a bunch o' vampires. They offer me nothin' but lowball prices."

Dyroth's eyes brightened with an idea. "Hagrid, how about this? From now on, I'll buy any materials you don't need—at market price."

Hagrid's reaction was immediate. He hugged Dyroth tightly. "Dyroth, you're a lifesaver! Yeh don't know how much they've been rippin' me off! Not even offerin' me half the value."

"Don't worry, Hagrid. I'll give you fair prices, and I promise not to lower them on purpose. We're friends, after all," Dyroth assured him with a smile, all the while knowing just how valuable Hagrid's materials were. Even at market price, the items were worth a fortune.

After sorting out the details, Hagrid insisted on Dyroth staying for lunch, and later in the afternoon, Dyroth spent time studying in the library with Hermione. As night fell, Dyroth had a quick bite in the Great Hall before heading to Filch's office for detention.

Upon arriving, he found the office unlocked, with no one there except Mrs. Norris, Filch's infamous cat, lounging on the desk.

"Filch really doesn't know how to care for a cat," Dyroth muttered to himself. "She's all skin and bones, and her fur's a mess."

Taking out a piece of fried fish he had brought from the hall, Dyroth placed it in front of Mrs. Norris. "Hello again, Mrs. Norris."

Mrs. Norris eyed the fish warily before cautiously picking it up. Meanwhile, Dyroth used a bit of magic to clean the dirt from her fur, gently stroking her back.

Just as Mrs. Norris began to relax and enjoy her meal, an angry voice echoed from down the hall.

"Get away from my Mrs. Norris! What've you done to her?!" came Filch's furious shout.

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