Chapter 8: Roll credits, because the troll is in the dungeon.

Blaise Zabini

Hogwarts, Great Britain

I leaned on Tracey as she led me into the dungeons. She walked slowly, supporting me on a shoulder and keeping pace with the tap of my cane. I could have made the trek on my own two feet but I appreciated the help nonetheless. It was strange for her to offer her shoulder, especially considering her justified animosity towards old-Blaise, but I wasn't in much state to question her unexpected goodwill.

The two prefects, Gemma Farley and Evan Yaxley, occasionally glanced back to make sure we were keeping up but otherwise made no mention of my sluggishness. At nineteen, they stood a full head above us fourteen year olds.

A few minutes and a flight of stairs later, we stopped in front of an empty stretch of wall in the dungeons. Here, Farley turned and spoke to us, "Here we are. You may have heard that the castle likes to shift its corridors; this is true. Depending on the time or other factors, the corridors and doors in this castle may lead to different places. However, some locations and pathways in the castle are immutable, the great hall, four common rooms, and offices of the heads of houses and headmaster are among them. Remember this route as this is the shortest way to the Slytherin common room from the great hall."

Yaxley, a pudgy young man with straw-blonde hair, picked up where his partner left off. "This is the entrance to the common room. Notice that there is no doorbell; that is intentional. The exact location of our common room is to be kept secret at all times. Should you lead anyone here, you will be punished. Are we clear?"

I was barely paying attention but nodded along anyway. Yaxley's attempt at intimidation seemed unnecessary. It was a truism that no one trusted Slytherins; if there were any bright-eyed students in our year, the mistrust of the other houses would cultivate a guarded mentality in them in short order anyway.

"You must speak a password to enter the common room," Yaxley continued. "The password changes on the first of each month and will be posted on the common room bulletin. If you forget, tough. For today and the rest of September, the password is legacy."

At that word, the brickwork folded up on itself, much like old Tom's entrance to Diagon Alley, revealing a wooden door set deep into the wall and yet more stairs. It had a silver knocker with emerald eyes, shaped into the form of a coiled serpent of course.

The unassuming entrance did much to temper our expectations, only for the common room to blow them out of the water. Even I stood a little straighter at the sight. There was a certain austere quality to the place, not unlike a temple or cathedral.

The common room was huge, boasting ceilings more than twice our height. The fireplace crackled comfortingly in the nearest corner. It was surrounded by a set of luxurious couches and a plush rug. Nearby was a row of bookshelves and desks. A small lamp sat at the center of each desk, providing enough light to study by.

Further in, the common room got darker, though never too dark to see thanks to hanging lanterns with emerald-tinted glass. It all looked like we were underwater, an illusion further perpetuated by the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side that opened to the Black Lake. Though the water should have been impossible to see into, the windows had been charmed to show off the aquatic ecosystem. I saw grindylows arguing over a dead fish. Not pretty, but still a pretty neat sight.

Just beneath the lakeside window were two sets of stairs that led further into the dungeons. They framed a series of comfy chairs that were occupied by some of the older students. One I didn't recognize had a literal white cat on his lap as he eyed us, partially obscured in the shadows. With the lake giving the room a greenish, stained glass effect, he couldn't have looked more like a Bond villain if he tried.

Between the lake and the fireplace was a lowered pit. It was oblong in shape and extended nearly the full length of the common room. The pit was cut in half, with a circle drawn on either side. Clearly a dueling area, which itself said a great deal about the house. It wasn't lost on anyone that the rest of the common room would be able to watch any spectacle that occurred.

Once Farley deemed that we'd been in awe of the common room long enough, she clapped her hands for our attention. "Right. Some of you look dead on your feet so I'll be brief: The dorms are to either side of the windows in a small alcove, right for boys, left for girls. Each of you will receive your class schedule tomorrow morning in the great hall. That would be all the information you need if you had been in any other house, but this is Slytherin, which means there are rules that you are expected to follow. The first rule of Slytherin is-"

"We don't talk about Slytherin?" I muttered under my breath. Tracey elbowed me before sliding me off her shoulder so I could lean on my cane. "Sorry."

"-to never bother Professor Snape without a very good reason. Though he is our head of house, we settle in-house affairs without his intervention unless absolutely necessary. He is a very busy man and if you waste his time, you will be sorry," she said sternly. "Second, we are united. The other houses will be suspicious of us by default. I don't care what quarrel you have with anyone here. Out there, you support each other. Are we clear?"

We all nodded. Farley and Yaxley stared us down, meeting each of our eyes with heated glares. Admittedly, it worked. The ambiance was very much like a fraternity initiation, with the older years watching from the far end like imperial overlords.

"Good. Now turn and face the bulletin board," Yaxley continued.

The board was large, covering one entire wall and separated into several sections. The bottom corner held the house password for the month, as promised. Another section seemed to be a primitive version of an online BBS, with people making different requests. A third section covered club schedules and the fourth contained a list of students in the house, sorted by year.

"The third thing we need to tell you is about that directory. We are the house of the cunning and ambitious and expect our members to conduct ourselves with those virtues. That directory of our names will be sorted and ranked on the first of each month, not by us, or even by Professor Snape, but by the castle in the same manner as the sorting hat. Those who act with the virtues of our house will find themselves greatly rewarded."

"How?" Lyra asked hungrily. She'd always been competitive.

"For starters, a private suite," he said with a sly smirk. That had all of our attention, even mine. "All houses have communal dorms and showers as the standard. However, the best male and female students in each year will find their belongings moved to a private suite at the end of the dorms. I can tell you from personal experience, you won't find it lacking."

"Another perk is that Professor Snape leaves his classroom open for those who wish to brew out of class time," Farley added, though with far less enthusiasm.

It was something to look forward to; potions were some of the subtlest forms of magic and having a means of brewing our own with little oversight and supplies from Snape's own closet was an incredible advantage. I wondered if that was why all of Snape's detentions seemed to revolve around scrubbing dirty cauldrons.

"Prefects are almost always chosen according to that directory," she continued. "Professor Snape will issue passes to be out after hours, or even to the restricted section of the Hogwarts library should he be particularly impressed with you, though there is only one student who has one currently.

"That directory is one of the few visible indicators of respect. And respect is currency here. Favors. Clout. These things that can't be weighed on a scale are the things we barter with in this house. You want a private broom? Tutoring? To leave for the weekend? You can, but only if you earn these favors. Our house rewards excellence and scorns mediocrity."

"How are the rankings decided?" Theo asked. "You said it changes each month, which means we could lose all those privileges month to month."

"Correct. The house is in a state of constant competition by design. There are a host of contributing factors, such as your contribution to house points, grades, excellence in extracurricular activities, and more. These standards have not been changed since Salazar Slytherin himself and not even Professor Snape can tamper with them."

I frowned. That was a very vague response, and worrying on several levels. It implied that nothing we did was ever truly private. Which, in hindsight, was obvious. With the number of ghosts and portraits in the castle, coupled with the overarching wards, I doubted there was a way to fully avoid being seen. Even Harry had trouble sneaking around at times despite his heirloom cloak.

In which case, the trick wasn't to not be seen, but to not be noticed. There was a fine line there, an implied permission to do as we wished, so long as we were discreet.

Her speech also heavily hinted that the castle was alive, or at least had similar charms which gave it a limited form of independence, not unlike the sorting hat. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Which brings me to the dueling pit," Farley continued. This was getting to be longer than I'd like. "I'm sure you've noticed. You may practice there at your discretion. It is also the arena where disputes between housemates may be resolved. Duels outside the pit are prohibited and will be punished accordingly. It is one of the few offenses that will incur Professor Snape's direct intervention. You don't want that."

"However," Yaxley cut in, stressing the word, "though you are free to use the pit as you please, it is also a highly public arena. We expect you to be cunning, and that implies a good dose of subtlety. Being seen down there often, even if you win constantly, won't necessarily paint you in a positive light.

"What else is there… Oh, one final thing before we let you head to bed. The school boasts several clubs and extracurriculars. The full list of clubs can be found on the bulletin board. They will begin accepting applications this Saturday so as to give you firsties time to get used to your schedule. That is all. Welcome to Slytherin."

X

I groaned as we shuffled off to bed. Farley promised us they'd be brief. She lied. I'd make a fuss, but the beds looked positively heavenly. Our dorm was a large room with four poster beds and privacy curtains. The curtains were, of course, a rich green, as were the blankets and pillows. Silver serpents danced around the hems in enchanting patterns, but I really didn't care anymore. I stumbled my way across the room and found my trunk before collapsing atop the bed next to it.

"Huh, so the crucio rumor was true then?" Nott said, more with curiosity than offense.

"Yup. I need twelve hours of sleep. Healer's recommendation," I groaned. I shimmied out of my robes and kicked my shoes across the dorm before crawling beneath the blankets.

"You're not going to unpack? Or shower?"

"Sleep first."

"Brush your teeth, Zabini."

"What are you, my mom?"

"I prefer to be in the train, not the other way around, thanks."

I looked up just long enough to glower at him before letting my head collapse back onto the pillow. It really was a great pillow. The smarmy git had a shit-eating grin that I wanted to slap off his face. Unfortunately, I desperately wanted the snuggly warmth of my bed more. He won. For now.

"We have to be up at eight at the latest," Heath said. "You're not getting twelve hours anyway so you may as well brush your teeth and unpack, Zabini."

"Sod off, Parkinson."

"Don't blame me when you're late in the morning."

I yanked the privacy curtains closed. Merciful silence greeted me, the miracle of charms.

X

Heath was right. I'd die before admitting it to his face, but he was right. I was indeed late in the morning. By my estimate, I went to sleep at ten-thirty or so. Ideally, I'd have woken up at ten-thirty, but such a luxury was denied me.

Instead, I woke up to Gregory pouring a bucket of cold water over my face. I gasped and sputtered to life, like a fish desperately flopping on land. I looked around to find the other four boys in my dorm staring back at me, each thoroughly unimpressed.

"Merlin, Zabini, you look like an inferi," Theo said.

It took me way longer than it should have for the words to register. I groaned and tried to rise, but failed. "Leave me alone…"

"We did. We went to breakfast and now it's almost eight-thirty. Get up, we have class."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Yeah, Nott even got your schedule for you," Gregory said. He poked me with his sausage finger and I contemplated biting it off.

Then, realizing I'd have to sleep on soggy sheets, I slowly rose. "You could have left."

"No, we really couldn't," Theo shrugged. He handed me a slip of paper that contained my schedule. Herbology and DADA, with the ravens and lions respectively. "Yaxley told us we're all expected to go to class as a group so none of us gets lost."

"Fine, fine, go. I'll take a quick shower."

"We have fifteen minutes. We'll be late."

"Brush my teeth. Whatever."

No matter what I wanted, it wasn't like I could miss the first day of class, so I grudgingly got up and made myself look presentable. I felt much more alert after washing my face and I dared hope that my cane wouldn't be too necessary today.

I reached into my trunk and picked up my prepared schoolbag, ready since before the train ride, and hustled after my housemates.

X

The greenhouses were thankfully not far from the great hall, just a quick stroll out into the courtyard and a ways. There was a nice, stone path that led straight to them and I had a much easier time walking now that I'd had some sleep. Unfortunately, I was still drowsy and the lull of more sleep called to me, lingering like a black cloud.

Thankfully, this was the first day and there would be little in the way of assigned classwork. I hadn't expected Somnolent to be such a heavy drawback, but now that I was living it out, it was. It might not be outright dangerous to my safety, but the increased need for sleep was a constant irritation I had to balance. And, as I'd found with the feast last night, there were some events that would forcibly disrupt my schedule.

I'd just have to live with it. It wasn't as though I was entirely unprepared for the day anyway, the perks of canon knowledge.

There were four large greenhouses, each with plants of increasing lethality and complexity. As had been explained to us by the prefects, us being everyone but me, the greenhouses were restricted based on our year, for our own safety.

We walked to the nearest one and entered. Sixteen pairs of eyes turned towards us, the Slytherin girls, all Ravenclaws, and the professor.

"You are late, dears," Professor Sprout said, though not unkindly. She was a dumpy woman who dressed in dust-browns and muted greens. Though she was often overshadowed by the other heads of houses, she had an affable, matronly aura that reminded me of my favorite aunt in my past life.

I glanced at the four boys and saw that they didn't want to say anything. Slytherins were united, which meant not throwing one of our own under the bus. I hobbled a step and spoke; it was better I take the heat voluntarily, especially given Professor Sprout's personality.

"I'm sorry, professor. It's my fault," I said. I tapped my cane against the ground and smiled apologetically. "The feast was more tiring than expected so I overslept a bit."

Sure enough, I saw her eyes soften compassionately. "Oh, don't you mind, dear. Go ahead and take a seat; you didn't miss much. A point to each of you for supporting your housemate."

The first class was mostly just orientation. She showed us where the work gloves were, where we could find fertilizer, why herbology was important, and generally fell into a rhythm talking about the subject she so obviously loved. She was great to listen to, not because I had any interest in herbology, I actually had the Black Thumb drawback, but because she was passionate about the subject.

When she'd covered what she wanted, she took a few minutes to show us how we should compact soil before repotting something. Apparently, there was a way to do it in such a way as to optimize water and nutrient intake for the plants. She had us doing that for the rest of class.

"Okay, that, that was impressive," Nott muttered quietly as we worked.

"Hmm?"

"You made us all late and somehow turned that into house points."

"I did. Confused?"

"Hardly. I'm just surprised. That was quick thinking."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Nott. You can stop buttering me up now."

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Oh, good, because I was running out of material."

"What do you want?"

"The private suite. I want you to not compete for it."

"Denied."

"Every month that you don't, I'll give you ten galleons."

Technically, as the highest denomination of wizarding currency, ten galleons wasn't nothing. Mother dearest gave me a hundred for the whole year and I expected not to need much more than that.

And yet, that little monthly recognition was worth more. Not because I desperately wanted a private suite, though it'd be nice, but because I wanted Snape to recognize me.

I was probably giving some Harry Potter fan out there in the multiverse chronic ulcers, but I did. I wanted the right to be out after hours. I wanted to see the restricted section. Hogwarts Castle may be the one assigning the suites, but it wasn't lost on me that every other privilege that came with recognition was at the discretion of our head of house. It was probably how he kept the house under his control.

I leveled Theo with a lazy side-eye. "You think I'm short on cash?"

"Fifty."

"Not interested."

"Come on, what'll it take?" he said, whining a bit now. Between Vincent, Gregory, Heath, and myself, he was smart enough to realize that I was his only competition among the Slytherin boys. But no matter how shrewd, he was still fourteen.

"Nothing. I happen to need that recognition for my own ambitions."

"Seventy-five galleons. Per month. For doing nothing. Think about that."

"I'm not poor, Nott."

"Well then, I guess this means we're competing," he said ominously. Though, coming from him, it sounded a bit cartoonish, like something Invader Zim or Dexter would say.

"Yup. May the best wizard win and all that," I drawled.

Theo could be a problem, but that was the expected outcome anyway so I didn't feel too bad. I wanted magic and all its secrets. Unless I was willing to steal Violet's cloak somehow, I'd need that restricted pass and that meant we'd be competing. The question was, what did I need to do to be noticed?

X

After herbology came DADA. It was the most anticipated class among my more oblivious yearmates. How could it not be? We lived in a world where monsters and dark mages were real. This was the class where the next storybook hero could be born. This was where greatness got its start.

There was a tangible buzz of energy as we sat with the Gryffindors. The class was arranged not unlike a college lecture hall, with a lowered pit in the center where the professor could speak from and be seen by all. Most notably, the whole class was festooned with bulbs of pungent, fermenting garlic as if they were Christmas lights. Even the stench of garlic was not enough to fully dampen the optimism.

Of course, I knew better than to get my hopes up. So did Lyra, Daphne, Tracey, and Theo, as did several Gryffindors. It wasn't just my canon knowledge talking; the truth was that Quirrell was the muggle studies teacher the year prior. If he had any defense knowledge, it'd be news to everyone.

I sat with Alice Runcorn, though not by design. With the lumbering duo paired up and Theo no longer having a reason to try to woo me to his side, I ended up the odd boy out. SImilar situation with Alice for the girls.

"Runcorn," I greeted.

"Zabini," she nodded back.

And… That was it. That was the sum total of my interaction with her.

I looked around and saw Violet sitting with Parvati. Parvati was talking her ear off about something or other, though she didn't seem to mind. The subject didn't matter as much as the fact that someone was allowed and willing to be her friend. That was good. I was happy for her.

Seeing that I had nothing better to do, I put my head down and caught some Zs. I was lucky, Alice didn't feel obligated to nudge me awake. She was quiet, uncomplicated, and didn't think of herself as a political mastermind. It was decided: She would be my ideal DADA partner from now on.

X

After my hour of nap time came transfiguration. I was still tired, but felt much better, well enough to pay attention. Which was good, as according to Farley and Yaxley, Professor McGonagall was as much of a hardass as depicted in canon.

The class was empty when we arrived. Empty, that was, save for a single cat atop the professor's desk that stared imperiously down at us. I studied the cat. She was meticulously groomed, with an air of smug satisfaction that almost made me doubt myself. Still I continued.

Why? For the lols, that's why.

Knowing I'd have to pay attention in this class, I claimed the frontmost seat by tossing my bookbag on the desk. Then, rather than take a seat, I began to rummage inside.

"What are you looking for, Zabini?" Padma Patil asked as she placed her bookbag by mine. I hadn't realized we'd be sharing a class with the ravens, but that was just as well.

"You'll see. I want to pet the cat," I told her.

I pulled out a brush and cat treats I had Pooky grab, along with a small packet of dried catnip I hid in my sleeve. My seer talents extended only five seconds into the future without a medium, but canon was another matter. The future would change as I acted on this world, which meant I ought to enjoy myself while I had the advantage.

I knew from the moment I saw the lone cat in the room that Professor McGonagall planned to pull the same stunt she did in canon. She probably did it with every first year orientation; it was certainly an impressive display of magical prowess.

And so, catnip.

I hobbled over to Professor Kitty and began to pet her. Gently proffering my tribute of kitty treats, salmon flavored even, I took the brush and started to run it along her back.

"Aww, who's a good kitty? You are, you are~" I cooed. I was rewarded with quiet purring.

"I didn't take you for a cat person," Padma said as she walked over.

"Minerva's better," I said, making the cat stiffen up a bit. "My owl's superior, but cats are nice too. Want the brush?"

"Please." She took the brush from my hand and eagerly took over, soothing the professor. Surely, if the Ravenclaw firstie joined in, there was no trick, right? An owl named Minerva had to be a coincidence. It was the name of the patron goddess of owls after all.

With my hands freshly unoccupied, I reached into my sleeve and pulled out a little, brown paper packet. I grinned like the cat that caught the canary. Professor Kitty's reaction was immediate from the moment I opened the packet. The subtle, minty scent of dried catnip filled the air around us and she gave up all pretenses of dignity.

She flopped onto her back and began rubbing herself against the desk. She growled and purred as she batted at the air. I wasn't sure what she was seeing, but she looked like she was having a blast. I held out a piece of dried salmon for her, only for her to hold my hand in her little paws. She meowed solemnly as if she were a bishop granting me benediction. Then she took a bite of the salmon and hung her head back, overwhelmed by the platonic ideal of seafood.

Or she was high as a kite.

Padma too was having the time of her life brushing her professor. I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she realized she'd been treating the strictest professor in the castle like a pet.

"Yes, you're just the prettiest kitty, aren't you?" Padma said as she ran the brush down Professor Kitty's front.

"Zabini, sit down, don't embarrass our house," Malfoy chided. I turned to give her a cheeky grin. She looked immaculate as always. Today, she'd worn her hair in a complicated French braid that would probably take a stylist hours to replicate without charms. She eyed me from head to toe and sniffed haughtily. Clearly, my own lack of personal care, or admittedly hygiene today, didn't agree with her sensibilities. "If I dressed like you, I wouldn't want to draw attention to myself."

"And you look as enchanting as ever, Malfoy. You could come join us, you know," I offered with a placid smile. "I have a few more treats left."

"As if, I'd pet some mangy cat. Sit down before the professor arrives and you lose us house points."

I almost burst out laughing at that. This wasn't an attempt to ruin Lyra's reputation, but her compulsive need to insult everything that didn't meet her lofty standards was the delightful cherry on top of this hilarious cake.

"She's not mangy. And the professor won't be mad at me, promise."

"What? Did you have a vision?" she asked sarcastically.

"Oh, ye of little faith. Why would I have catnip? I have an owl, not a kneazle."

By this point, the catnip had begun to wear off; that stuff only lasted for ten minutes or so at most anyway. Now that she wasn't drugged to the gills, Professor Kitty finally realized just how goddamn shady I was.

The truth struck her like a bolt from the blue and she leapt into the air, twisting and yowling. She glowered at me, daring me to further reveal the matter. She landed on the floor, and, with her tail held as stiff as a toilet brush and her nose held high, she stalked stiffly out of the room through a side door.

"Aww, you scared her off, Malfoy," I said sarcastically. "Are you happy? You've somehow managed to out-entitle a cat."

"That's not a word. Now sit down, you idiot."

"Fine, our fun's over anyway. Come on, Patil, sit with me."

The Indian girl looked at me with naked caution now. "Okay, what am I missing?"

"Fun. Your twin must have stolen your share in the womb. Ask for it back, please."

"Prat. Stop distracting me with sarcasm. What did you do?"

"Besides distract you with a cat?"

"Yes."

"I drugged said cat."

"I got that."

"Said cat had the time of her life."

"Zabini."

"I also upset Malfoy. She's rather cross with me because I dared remove the spotlight from her gorgeous face."

"Die in a fire, Zabini."

Before I could reply, the side door swung open and Professor McGonagall, human this time, stalked into the room. She saw the mess on her desk and primly vanished it with a flick of her wand.

"I apologize for my tardiness, students," she said with a wooden smile. "I had some pressing matters to attend to."

"Like sobering up," I muttered under my breath. Not quietly enough, because both Professor McGonagall and Padma looked at me with mounting horror. I decided to own it and shot Padma my most innocent smile.

"Ahem, I see a few of you took great care of my… familiar." The Gryffindor head of house stared me down with an evil eye that promised untold retribution should I open my mouth. She knew I'd done this on purpose. There was no other reason for me to keep catnip in my bookbag.

I raised an eyebrow in open challenge. I wouldn't have dared had I been seated elsewhere, but seated up front, no one else save Padma could see my expression.

She knew. I knew. Padma knew. And so a silent negotiation was had.

Padma's gaze moved from McGonagall to me and back to the professor. I smiled serenely. Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed into ominous slits, daring us to contradict her. Padma nodded frantically, an adorable puppy showing her belly to the lioness.

But I was Blaise Zabini. I would not yield so easily. I held her gaze and allowed the silence to stretch on.

And on…

And on…

Until finally, when the pregnant pause could warrant a cesarean, I nodded subtly. It was an offer of armistice, an unspoken olive branch.

"Yes, professor," I replied, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in my mouth.

"Excellent. Fifteen points to Slytherin for being well-prepared," she said with an equally subtle nod towards me. She had signed the armistice. And yet, I was not fully satisfied. I coughed lightly, tilting my head towards my seat partner. "And ten points to Ravenclaw for a deft hand."

I considered it. House points meant nothing, but neither did this little bout of humorous humiliation in the end. If I pushed for more, she could make my life exceptionally uncomfortable. Yes, it was a fair tribute. Tribute, for it was plain to all three of us that I was victorious in this little contest.

"Thank you professor, it was our pleasure," I said with a polite nod that promised my silence on the matter. Gracious in victory, that was Blaise Zabini. "I do so love animals. I would be delighted to cat-sit should you find yourself busy in the future."

For a second, I feared I'd crossed that invisible line, but she nodded with a forced smile. The look on her face told me to cease pushing, so cease I did. "We shall see. For now, we must begin class; we're late enough as it is. Let's start with an overview of transfiguration as a field of study…"

Author's Note

Tropes this chapter: Cliche Slytherin password related to purity or snakes. Tricked out common room. House rules that heavily incentivize competition.

You know, I don't think enough SIs mess with McG. But alas, Blaise is a troll and this is low-hanging fruit. We'll pick up with the matchstick and the rest of the first day another time.

Animal fact? Animal fact.

Catnip is attractive to cats because of a compound called nepetalactone, which is what is called a cat attractant. Cat attractants are chemicals which mimic the role of pheromones. Despite what people say, catnip is not actually an aphrodisiac for cats, but it's close.

And it's not just domestic cats either. Both jaguars and lions enjoy catnip and have demonstrated similar behaviors. So yes, jaguars and lions can and do get stoned out in the wild.

Have a plant fact for free: Catnip is closely related to mint. You can eat it and several recipes, particularly in Italy, use it in soups, salads, and the like. It's also decent in tea.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.