Harry had never witnessed so many magical wonders in his life.
As he returned to Privet Drive from Diagon Alley, he felt as though he were walking on air. His only regret was forgetting to ask Hagrid more about his parents, but he told himself there would be plenty of time for that later.
Due to certain events—namely his unexpected display of backbone and the mysterious "community liaison"—the Dursleys had finally moved him out of the cupboard under the stairs and into Dudley's second bedroom. As he lay on a real bed, Harry realized his life wasn't quite so dismal anymore. He had a bed, a wand, Hedwig... and a teacher who actually cared for him.
Soon, he would be at Hogwarts. What would life be like there? Harry wondered, drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Early the next morning, Harry was jolted awake by a rhythmic thumping at the window. He rubbed his eyes and squinted. A tawny owl with a slightly crooked beak was persistently drumming against the grimy glass.
"It's Teacher's owl!"
Harry scrambled out of bed, instantly alert. He rushed to the window and threw it open to let the bird in. Ignoring the owl's huffy, impatient look, Harry retrieved a refined box and a short note.
The message was, of course, from Alaric Thorn.
Harry,
Happy Birthday. My apologies for the slight delay in your gift.
I must leave Privet Drive for a day to attend to some preparations. A word of advice: please read the instructions for your gift carefully.
Alaric Thorn
Excitement bubbled in Harry's chest as he set the note aside and focused on the elegant box. He hadn't expected a gift at all; for a boy used to receiving old socks or coat hangers, this was an extraordinary surprise.
He opened the box to find a small phial containing a thick, murky black liquid. Tucked beneath the glass was a scrap of parchment:
Remember the Chinese Chomping Cabbage I gave you? Try adding this potion the next time you water it.
"The cabbage?"
Harry turned toward his nightstand. There, sitting in its cracked pot, was the Chomping Cabbage. At the moment, the plant had its mouth buried deep in the soil, seemingly fast asleep.
Harry realized he hadn't properly thanked the little guy yet. Two days ago, the cabbage had played a key role in helping him wrestle his Hogwarts letter away from Uncle Vernon. In the struggle, his uncle had ended up with several jagged scars across his face. Since that afternoon, the Dursleys hadn't dared to step foot in his room.
The memory brought a spark of satisfaction to Harry's heart, though it was quickly followed by a familiar sense of unease. What if the Dursleys kicked him out for good? He would truly be homeless.
No, Harry thought, shaking his head. I have my teacher now.
The thought acted as a steadying anchor. As Harry approached the pot, the cabbage snapped awake, its leaves quivering as it bared its needle-sharp teeth. However, once it caught Harry's scent—the scent of the person who watered it every day—it retracted its teeth and tucked its head back into the dirt.
Harry let out a breath. Even though the cabbage had never bitten him, those teeth always made his skin crawl.
Following Alaric's instructions, Harry retrieved a watering can from the garden shed and filled it with water, then carefully uncorked the black phial and poured the contents in.
Under Harry's watchful eyes, the liquid diffused instantly. The water first turned a dull, leaden gray, but then it rapidly shifted into a deep, visceral crimson—looking for all the world like fresh blood. A heavy, metallic scent of rust began to fill the air.
"Is this... actually a potion?" Harry murmured, wrinkling his nose. Even after months of studying under Alaric, he couldn't identify this specific brew.
In reality, this was a specialized growth stimulant Alaric had refined from his own blood. Alaric's mana possessed the unique power to trigger mutations in plants, and his blood served as the ultimate medium. For a magical plant, Alaric's essence was the equivalent of pure, concentrated vitality.
The Chomping Cabbage's leaves began to tremble violently. It had clearly caught the scent. To Harry's amazement, the cabbage actually uprooted itself slightly, leaning toward the watering can with palpable hunger.
"Steady, little guy," Harry said, tilting the can toward the pot.
But the cabbage was finished waiting. It lunged forward, snapping its teeth onto the spout of the watering can and gulping down the crimson liquid directly.
Harry stood there, stunned. He had completely forgotten the thing actually had a mouth. Within seconds, the watering can was empty. The cabbage swallowed the final drop, then suddenly went rigid.
It settled back into the soil, its leaves drooping as if in a state of profound relaxation. It buried its head deep in the dirt and became perfectly still.
"Er... is that it?"
Harry poked a leaf with his finger, but the plant didn't respond. He stood there for a moment, feeling a bit underwhelmed. He had expected an immediate, spectacular transformation. Instead, the cabbage had just... fallen asleep?
Before Harry could investigate further, the door was thrown open with a violent bang. Vernon Dursley stood in the doorway, his face the color of a boiled lobster.
"Get up and get moving, you freak!" he bellowed. "I don't house you here just so you can lounge about all day!"
Harry instinctively shrank back. Despite his recent small victories, years of fear weren't so easily erased. However, when his eyes landed on the raw, unhealed scars on Vernon's cheek, the fear lost some of its edge.
Vernon followed Harry's gaze to the nightstand. His eyes landed on the Chomping Cabbage and he visibly flinched, his hand flying to his scarred face.
"You'd better get rid of that... that biting monstrosity!" Vernon panted. "Or I'm calling the police!"
He didn't wait for an answer, retreating from the room and slamming the door shut. Harry stood alone, wondering if the police even had a department for magical vegetables.
Maybe I should take the cabbage to Teacher's shop tomorrow, he thought. It'll be safer there.