The incident with Professor Quirrell didn’t keep them distracted for long. Cedric recounted that the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the one before Oren, was actually even worse than Quirrell.
Back then, Cedric had just started at Hogwarts—a first-year student brimming with dreams and endless expectations. Unfortunately, that excitement faded in less than two days. In their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the professor cast a series of vicious jinxes on the students under the guise of teaching.
There was the Vomiting Jinx, the Horn-Growing Hex, the Hair-Thickening Jinx, the Jelly-Legs Jinx, and the Swelling Head Jinx... Cedric had experienced them all.
While the professor always managed to reverse the effects in time, ensuring no lasting harm, the experience of being jinxed was extremely unpleasant. The Swelling Head Jinx, in particular, left him with a dizzying discomfort he remembers all too vividly.
To make matters worse, the professor pitted classmates against each other, dividing them into two groups from different houses and forcing them to duel with jinxes. For Cedric, each Defense Against the Dark Arts class felt like torture, leaving him needing days to recover afterward.
Thankfully, these ordeals didn’t last long. Cedric explained that on Halloween, a large group of heavily armed people stormed into Hogwarts and took the professor away. Initially, everyone assumed he was some dark wizard. But a few days later, The Daily Prophet revealed that he was actually an escaped patient from St. Mungo’s Hospital—one from the psychiatric ward.
After Cedric finished, Kyle and Kanna stared at him in disbelief.
“It’s true,” Cedric said, shrugging as he caught sight of their shocked faces. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask the Weasley brothers. They know, too.”
Kyle shook his head, feeling a pang of sympathy for Cedric and the Weasley brothers. Truly, anyone bold enough to apply for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts had to be extraordinary.
With Cedric’s experience as a benchmark, Professor Quirrell's classes suddenly didn't seem so bad anymore.
But by the time Herbology class rolled around in the afternoon, any lingering thoughts about Defense Against the Dark Arts had completely faded. The magical greenhouse number three was an absolute paradise for magical plants.
Mandrakes, Venomous Tentacula, Snargaluff—plants they had only read about or heard of before—were all right here.
“Today, we’re going to repot Mandrakes,” announced Professor Sprout, pointing to a row of deep-bottomed trays beside her. “Now, can anyone tell me the properties of Mandrakes?”
Cho, who was in their class, raised her hand first.
“Mandrake is a powerful restorative,” she answered confidently. “It’s used to return deformed people or those under a Charm to their original state.”
“Very good. Ten points to Ravenclaw,” said Professor Sprout, nodding in approval. “Mandrake is indeed essential in many antidotes. But it’s also quite dangerous. Can anyone tell me why?”
“The cry of a Mandrake root can kill a person,” blurted out a boy in the middle of the class.
“Exactly right. Ravenclaw, another ten points,” said Professor Sprout.
At that moment, she glanced at Kyle with a hint of regret. This child is just too polite, she thought. In the classroom, just raising your hand isn’t enough. Sometimes it’s best to just speak up, like that Ravenclaw boy. What a missed opportunity for a few extra points.
Just as she was thinking this, Professor Sprout noticed that Kyle’s hand was still raised.
“Oh, Kyle, did you have something to add?” she asked.
“Yes, Professor,” Kyle replied. “In addition to its cry, dried Mandrake leaves are also dangerous for Animagi.”
“Yes, you’re correct,” Professor Sprout said, though she quickly shook her head slightly. “But not as dangerous as you might think. In fact, the effects of dried Mandrake leaves on Animagi are quite weak and only cause irreversible harm if taken consistently in animal form over a long period—about three years, at least. And if the wizard reverts to human form during that time, the negative effects disappear instantly.
“Furthermore, there aren’t many Animagi in the wizarding world. Only seven are registered with the Ministry of Magic. As far as I know, none of them spend extended periods in animal form, much less consume Mandrake leaves. So, although Mandrake leaves do affect Animagi, the likelihood is extremely slim. In fact, aside from one a hundred years ago, there’s no other recorded case.”
“Oh, I see,” Kyle nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I was just being paranoid.”
“No, I’d say you’ve just been reading a lot,” Professor Sprout remarked with a smile. “I remember only one rather obscure herbalism book that mentions that incident. What was it called?”
“A Selection of Medieval Herbs,” Kyle answered. “I read it at Mr. Scamander’s.”
“Yes, that’s the one,” Professor Sprout chuckled. “Everyone knows Mr. Scamander as a brilliant Magizoologist, but few realize he was also a master of Herbology.”
“Ten points to Hufflepuff,” Professor Sprout added with a clap of her hands. “This is just a bit of extra information for you all. Don’t worry about memorizing it.”
She then pointed again to the row of deep trays and began explaining the precautions for repotting Mandrakes.
“Four to a tray. And remember, you must wear earmuffs,” Professor Sprout reminded them. “While the Mandrakes here are still young and their cries aren’t fatal, they can make you faint for several hours. I don’t think any of you want to miss the first day of classes, so make sure to wear your earmuffs while working. When it’s time to pack up, I’ll find a way to get your attention.”
With their earmuffs on, repotting the Mandrakes wasn’t difficult as long as they were careful to keep fingers and hands away from the plants’ mouths. Though the Mandrakes lacked teeth, their mouths were lined with hard keratin, making bites painful.
Kyle grabbed a bunch of leaves and expertly yanked the Mandrake out of its pot. The little creature immediately let out a loud wail, wriggling its light green body in resistance.
It seemed much louder than the others, and it was clearly not happy with Kyle.
“You’re such a fuss, it’s barely worth it to pull a few leaves off,” Kyle muttered as he took a large flowerpot from under the table and stuffed the Mandrake into it.