Lupin stepped into the greenhouse and was immediately captivated. The space was far larger than it appeared from the outside, with vast stretches of land that seemed endless. The air was thick with a confusing mixture of scents from various medicinal herbs, a sensory overload for anyone not used to it.
What surprised Lupin the most was that the potion plants were not confined neatly to pots as in a typical magical greenhouse. Instead, they were planted directly in large, sprawling patches, giving the impression of a farm rather than a controlled greenhouse environment.
Vinson, noticing Lupin's astonished expression, only smiled knowingly. Anyone seeing such large-scale cultivation of medicinal herbs for the first time would naturally be amazed. With a quick, appreciative glance, Lupin spotted rows of rare, precious herbs. To the untrained eye, they were just plants, but to someone with expertise, they were fields of gold. Lupin's respect for Vinson deepened instantly—this young man was far more capable than he had imagined.
"Well, I think I need to show you around," Vinson said with a smile, producing his wand. "You'll need a Bubble-Head Charm, sir, unless you want to inhale some… well, less-than-pleasant aromas."
Following Vinson's lead, Lupin quickly cast the same spell, soon encasing both their heads in protective bubbles. The Bubble-Head Charm, practical and versatile, allowed one to breathe underwater or isolate themselves from noxious smells—a small but indispensable bit of magic.
It didn't take long for Lupin to understand why it was necessary. He froze mid-step when his eyes fell upon a tall willow tree not far away.
"Hey, is that a Whomping Willow?" he asked, nostalgia softening his voice. "Hogwarts had one just like it."
"This is a child of that very Whomping Willow," Vinson replied, approaching the tree to pat its sturdy trunk. "I transplanted it from Hogwarts when I was still a student."
Normally, a Whomping Willow would attack anything that came near it, yet this one stood silently. Lupin was fascinated, though still cautious. As he stepped closer, the tree suddenly transformed. Its branches whipped through the air with sharp, whistling sounds, causing Lupin to stumble back instinctively.
"Ah, sorry, it's a bit shy," Vinson said with a grin. "It's best to raise your hands when approaching—it calms it down."
"Shouldn't I touch its knot?" Lupin asked, recalling the Hogwarts Willow. Pressing the scar on the tree would usually halt its attacks, a trick he had used countless times to sneak into the Shrieking Shack.
"Every Whomping Willow is different," Vinson replied patiently. "This one has no scar. Just follow my method, and it won't hurt you."
Lupin nodded, though unease lingered. Slowly, he approached the tree, hands raised above his head as instructed. For a moment, the willow remained still. Relief washed over him. But then, without warning, its branches began thrashing violently. Lupin froze, panic rising in his chest. Even Vinson instinctively took a step back.
Something was wrong. Vinson frowned, muttering to himself. Just then, the branches began to change color, shifting from green to a deep, ominous purple.
"This isn't right," Vinson murmured, eyes sharp with concern. "Stay back, Lupin."
The tree's branches erupted, spewing thick, purple mist with a pungent, nearly unbearable odor. The gas spread rapidly, turning the surrounding air a deep violet. Fortunately, their Bubble-Head Charms had been in place, preventing them from inhaling the poisonous fumes.
"Quickly retreat!" Vinson shouted, yanking Lupin back. Their protective bubbles tinged with purple as the mist tried to penetrate, forcing them to reinforce the spell with urgent flicks of their wands.
"What happened? Why is it behaving like this?" Lupin's face had gone pale, his earlier admiration giving way to fear. He had never witnessed a Whomping Willow act in such a bizarre, unpredictable manner.
Vinson's brows knitted tightly. He quickly summoned a mental link with his tree of wisdom, Eldera.
"Eldera, analyze the information of the Whomping Willow in front of me."
A moment later, information appeared in his mind:
Species: Whomping Willow
Level: 2
Characteristic: Highly Toxic
Status: Growing (0%)
Vinson exhaled, a wave of relief passing over him. The Whomping Willow's erratic behavior was due to a sudden mutation, a "Highly Toxic" characteristic that had appeared randomly, without his intervention. Usually, his plant mutation ability required careful application of magic and potions, but occasionally, these spontaneous mutations occurred naturally.
Seeing Lupin's alarmed expression, Vinson tried to reassure him. "Don't worry. This is a normal manifestation for my Whomping Willow—it's still safe."
"…Really?" Lupin's voice wavered. Watching the tree continue to spew purple mist, he was far from convinced. The situation was beyond anything he had anticipated when accepting this job.
Vinson stepped closer to the tree. Gradually, the Whomping Willow's branches retracted, and the toxic mist dissipated under his touch. "See? Problem solved," Vinson said with a nod. "It seems the tree had just gained the 'Highly Toxic' trait and hadn't yet stabilized. Now it's under control."
Lupin stared at the tree, still uneasy. Vinson's calm explanation didn't fully ease his nerves.
"Is it too late for me to refuse this job now?" he asked quietly, a mix of frustration and helplessness in his tone.
"I'll pay you double," Vinson replied casually.
Lupin blinked, caught off guard. "Deal," he muttered, a hint of resignation creeping into his voice.
As he took a step back, Lupin looked around the greenhouse more closely. It wasn't just the Whomping Willow that impressed him. Rows of glowing Mandrakes lined one side, their cries muffled under protective enchantments. Exotic herbs, some known only from rare potion texts, sprouted vigorously across the patches of soil. Here, Vinson had cultivated a small ecosystem of magic, where every plant had a purpose and a story.
"This place…" Lupin murmured. "It's incredible."
Vinson grinned. "You think this is something? You haven't even seen the core sections yet. The greenhouse is divided into zones, each dedicated to a specific type of plant mutation and cultivation. Some plants here have traits that don't exist anywhere else."
Lupin followed him, still marveling at the sheer scale and complexity. Despite his lingering anxiety, he began to feel a strange excitement. The danger, the unpredictability, and the challenge—it was all part of what made this job unique.
"Be careful with the next section," Vinson warned as they approached a row of deep blue-leafed plants. "These are semi-sentient. They react to emotions. If you're nervous, they might… respond."
Lupin swallowed hard. He hadn't yet fully adjusted to the idea that plants could have personalities, or moods, or even moods that could affect him directly. But this, too, was part of the learning curve.
As he observed Vinson handling the plants with ease, Lupin realized the depth of knowledge and control required to manage this greenhouse. He had signed on for something extraordinary—something far beyond ordinary potion work or herbology. And while he might regret the choice at times, a part of him thrilled at the thought of what he could achieve here.
By the time they reached the end of the first major section, Lupin had begun to appreciate Vinson's methods, even if he was still cautious. Each plant, each strange trait, each mutation was a puzzle—and he had agreed to solve it, whether he was fully ready or not.
Finally, they paused near a small pond, its water shimmering with iridescent hues. Vinson tapped his wand, and the water rippled to reveal aquatic plants moving rhythmically as if dancing. "This is where the most delicate experiments are," he explained. "It takes precision and intuition to manage them properly."
Lupin nodded silently, realizing that every moment in this greenhouse required vigilance. The plants were beautiful, dangerous, and unpredictable—but under Vinson's guidance, they could also be controlled, nurtured, and even appreciated.
As he left the pond behind, Lupin couldn't help but glance back at the Whomping Willow. It was no longer a threat, but the memory of its sudden attack lingered. Still, despite the danger, he felt a strange sense of purpose.
"This is going to be a lot more challenging than I thought," he muttered under his breath.
Vinson overheard and chuckled. "Welcome to your new life, Lupin. If you survive the first week, you'll be ready for anything."
Lupin forced a smile, the weight of the job settling on his shoulders. There was no turning back now. The greenhouse, with its mysteries and perils, had claimed him—and he would have to grow just as fast as the plants around him.
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