Hidden Tales From The Chamber of Secrets - 90 - The Pot Plant

by Polydicta

Another Neville Longbottom: Herbologist tale

Disclaimer:

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

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Hidden Tales From The Chamber of Secrets - 90 - The Pot Plant

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Neville had been propagating some of the more difficult plants in the advanced herbology greenhouses for months now. He was more than a little proud to have discovered the secret of handling one of the most pernicious and ornery plants known to wizardkind, and had successfully grown only the second captive specimen of that most mobile of trees, the Homicidal Hickory.

The secret was to water the tree with calming draughts daily. Once calm, the sapling was actually quite an attractive plant with pinnate leaves resembling the pinnae of a horse-chestnut and shaggy bark. When calm, the tree moved constantly, swaying hypnotically as though dancing to some exotic, unheard music.

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It was shortly after Christmas when Neville had enough of Dolores Umbridge's Educational Decrees. She had been torturing students with her black quill, and especially Harry. Worst of all, she had shut down the Herbology Club. Neville decided that was beyond the pale.

After dinner, one evening, Dolores found a potted plant on her desk, some kind of indoor shrub, apparently. It had pinnate leaves - the new foliage being somewhat pinkish which contrasted pleasantly with its grey, shaggy bark. She found the gentle swaying of the plant most soothing, so she took it into her office while she marked the children's essays.

The note warned her to water it every evening with water and a little firewhiskey, which she did.

The following evening, she watered the plant for the second time, noticing that its movements were somewhat more pronounced.

As she sat marking the children's work, she heard a series of whistling noises. She looked up, and was struck by one of the tree's branches. Barely half an inch across, it was moving rapidly and embedded itself in her flesh.

A second branch struck her in the temple, stunning her.

She was never aware of the third and subsequent hits from the plant.

Morning came and with it the sight of the Defence classroom door having been ripped from its hinges. Inside was a scene of horror and carnage with the High Inquisitor spread evenly across the room, a shattered terracotta pot resting on the desk.

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Neville smiled at his potion-addicted plant as he watered it with calming draughts. It seemed somewhat subdued at the moment, as though it had a bit of a hangover.

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