Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 535: Herbology Class, Returning to Its Owner

Kyle wasn’t sure if his words had truly sunk in with Hermione, but at least for now, she seemed to be considering them seriously.

“You did the right thing,” Hagrid said gruffly. “Hermione tried to rope me into her cause before, but I refused.”

“I didn’t think she’d go asking all the House-elves to demand pay, though. She clearly didn’t listen.”

Kyle glanced at Hagrid, noticing his weary demeanor and the faint but distinct scent of alcohol. “Oh, Hagrid... I couldn’t help but notice—”

“Oh, no,” Hagrid interrupted, waving his hands. “I didn’t drink! I just spilled the Firewhiskey we keep for the Abraxan. Those big beasts need it, not me!”

“I hope so,” Kyle said, though his tone carried a note of doubt. “School starts tomorrow, and don’t forget—you’re still a professor. You need to pull yourself together.”

But Kyle’s words seemed to have the opposite effect. Hagrid slumped even further, his shoulders drooping as he muttered, “I may not be a professor for much longer... Parents won’t stand for it. Same thing happened with Lupin, didn’t it?

“All I can hope for now is that Dumbledore lets me stay on as Gamekeeper. I just don’t want to be kicked out of Hogwarts altogether.”

Kyle shook his head. “It seems you haven’t been listening to us either. Just wait one more day. After the Christmas holidays, the Daily Prophet will publish a new edition. Trust me, it’ll bring good news.”

“I don’t want to read it,” Hagrid said stubbornly, his voice rising with agitation. “I’m sure it’s just more of that woman’s slander, accusing me of Merlin-knows-what. I don’t need to see those mean words again.”

“Trust me, Hagrid,” Kyle said earnestly, patting the man’s arm. “This time, it’ll be different. There’s a surprise waiting for you.”

Hagrid didn’t reply, but his expression showed the faintest flicker of curiosity.

Kyle, Kanna, and the others returned to the castle. With term starting the next day, they headed to the library to return their borrowed books.

Inside, Kyle spotted Hermione sitting at a table with a stack of thick tomes beside her. At the top of the pile were A History of Medieval Goblins and House-Elves: Helpers or Enemies?

Kyle smiled to himself. This was a good sign—a clear indication that Hermione had taken his advice seriously. He decided not to disturb her and quietly returned his books before leaving the library.

...

The next day, the first day of term arrived.

Perhaps because so many students had stayed at school for Christmas, the start of the new term didn’t feel much different. The Great Hall buzzed with activity, and the grounds outside were still blanketed in thick snow.

In contrast, the greenhouses were warm, almost humid, with condensation forming on the windows and occasionally dripping to form small icicles.

“Keep your dragon-hide gloves on and stay focused!” Professor Sprout instructed firmly during Herbology class.

She pointed to a long planter in the middle of the table. “Chomping Cabbage. I’m sure you’ve all seen it before in first year, but you weren’t ready to study it back then.”

“I must remind you,” she continued, holding up a thick wooden stick, “the Chomping Cabbage is an extremely dangerous plant.”

To emphasize her point, she gently tapped the pot containing the Chomping Cabbage.

Under the students’ watchful eyes, the cabbage—which had been still and unassuming—suddenly snapped open a large mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. With a loud CRUNCH, it bit the stick clean in half, as though it were nothing more than a biscuit.

The class collectively gasped, instinctively stepping back and pressing themselves against the greenhouse walls.

For most students, this was their first time seeing the danger of Herbology so vividly. Though they had studied poisonous plants before—like Belladonna and Fanged Geranium—none of those had the immediate visual impact of the Chomping Cabbage.

The shattered stick was enough to send shivers down the spines of the more timid students, some of whom refused to approach the table at all.

“Don’t worry, be brave,” Professor Sprout encouraged, gesturing for the class to move closer. “I’ve deliberately chosen Chomping Cabbages that aren’t quite ripe yet. As long as you wear your dragon-hide gloves, you’ll be fine. And if there are any special circumstances, Madam Pomfrey will handle it.”

Despite her reassurances, the students hesitated, eyeing the sharp-toothed plants with unease.

“Hurry up, move forward,” Sprout said more firmly. “We’re changing the soil in the Chomping Cabbage pots today, and you can’t do that from such a distance.”

Slowly, with great reluctance, everyone shuffled closer.

“Look at Kyle—he’s not afraid at all!” Professor Sprout exclaimed suddenly. “Oh, that’s it! One foot away is perfect—safe and still close enough to handle the soil change. Excellent, five points to Hufflepuff!”

All heads turned to Kyle, but most quickly looked away. After all, a Champion’s actions weren’t particularly surprising anymore.

Once the group had gathered around the table, Professor Sprout clapped her hands to get their attention. She began demonstrating the proper technique for changing the soil without disturbing the Chomping Cabbage.

The students watched intently, not daring to miss a single detail.

Next came the practical portion. As usual, they worked in groups of four. Given the difficulty of the task, Professor Sprout allowed the groups to share the responsibility of completing just one soil change.

Predictably, Kyle’s group—consisting of him, Kanna, Mikel, and Ryan—finished first. Their Chomping Cabbage looked calm, almost asleep, and the new soil in the pot was perfectly smooth.

“Incredible,” Professor Sprout said as she inspected their work. “To get it so perfect on the first try, and so quickly! Kyle, you really have the makings of a fantastic botanist.”

Kyle offered a modest smile. “It’s nothing—just practice.” Then he quickly added, “I mean, I just wrote down all the steps and followed them exactly.”

“Exactly,” Professor Sprout agreed, smiling back. “But this job requires more than just following steps. It demands calmness and a steady hand. If the Chomping Cabbage senses anything unusual, it’ll react. That’s not easy to manage.”

“Maybe I just got lucky,” Kyle said lightly. “Perhaps this Chomping Cabbage is a bit slow-witted.”

Kanna turned her head, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. She knew the truth: Kyle had a suitcase full of Chomping Cabbages, and he’d probably changed the soil on hundreds of them. Of course, he was an expert by now.

Professor Sprout, oblivious to this, awarded Hufflepuff another ten points.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students peeled off their scratched dragon-hide gloves and bolted out of the greenhouse, eager to leave the biting plants behind.

Kyle lingered, watching Professor Sprout tidy up. Casually, he slipped two seeds into a nearby flowerpot—seeds he’d taken back in first year. After all this time, they had finally returned to their rightful owner.

As Kyle left the greenhouse, he overheard some classmates still grumbling about the Chomping Cabbages.

“I hope we don’t have to deal with anything dangerous in the next class,” someone muttered. “Did you hear the sound of that cabbage biting into the stick? By Merlin, my hands were sweating the whole time.”

“I wish,” sighed a Gryffindor, “but Professor Sprout said we’d be studying them for a month.”

“When did she say that?”

“At the end of class. Didn’t you hear?”

“No...”

A round of groans followed as the students trudged back to the castle.

...

When Kyle reached the castle foyer, he spotted a tall figure talking to Sirius—Hagrid.

What was surprising, however, was that Hagrid was smiling.

The moment Hagrid noticed Kyle, he came bounding over, newspaper in hand.

“You won’t believe it!” Hagrid exclaimed, unfolding the paper and pointing to an article on the front page. “That Skeeter woman—she actually said somethin’ nice about me!”

“Really?” Kyle said, glancing at the headline.

The accompanying picture showed Hagrid gently tending to an injured Kneazle.

Is the Half-Giant Real? What’s Behind That Fierce Appearance?

“It’s unbelievable. I never would have thought the giant was bandaging a Kneazle’s hind leg instead of eating it. And this isn’t the first time—stories like these keep coming in.

‘I received a lot of help from Hagrid when I was at school. He’s a warm-hearted man and the best Gamekeeper there is,’ said one alumnus who graduated five years ago.

Letters like this one just keep on coming. Even The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, publicly stated, ‘We don’t care if he’s a half-blood giant or not.’

It makes one wonder—Rubeus Hagrid, a large and ferocious man, is he truly a half-blood giant? Or just big-boned…?”

Kyle didn’t bother reading further.

He had to admit—Rita Skeeter knew how to spin a story. Despite the article’s contradictions, it was crafted in a way that worked, leaving readers questioning preconceived notions.