Although Lupin felt that this job was a bit unreliable, the pay was impossible to ignore. The boss was generous with Galleons, and the allure of that wealth was irresistible. For Lupin, who was a bit short on cash, this was a rare opportunity. He just hoped his Werewolf identity wouldn't be discovered too soon. After all, being a Werewolf made employment precarious; most people refused to hire them. In the public eye, Werewolves were dangerous, and a bite could easily mean death.
Vinson, sensing Lupin's agreement, felt a wave of relief. The reaction of the Whomping Willow earlier had indeed been dangerous. A timid wizard might have fled instantly—but fortunately, Lupin had not.
As for the salary, it was trivial for Vinson, who owned a sprawling collection of rare medicinal plants. His warehouse alone was filled with Galleons from previous sales of Dragon materials.
"Come here, and follow my instructions closely. I'll introduce you to the work. And don't run around," Vinson said, clapping his hands and gesturing for Lupin to follow. They delved deeper into the greenhouse.
The greenhouse was enormous—far more extensive than Lupin had imagined. Half an hour had already passed, and they were only halfway through. Lupin, accustomed to the sight of valuable herbs, initially felt a pang of regret seeing them planted like common weeds. Soon, though, he relaxed. Most of the plants here were unfamiliar to him.
As they reached the greenhouse's depths, the plants grew increasingly bizarre. Their shapes were twisted, and they radiated an unusual aura.
"Is that… a watermelon? I've never seen anyone grow watermelons in Britain," Lupin murmured, eyes wide with curiosity. He stepped closer without waiting for Vinson's warning.
Before he could react further, the watermelon rotated, revealing a mouth lined with sharp teeth.
"What?" Lupin exclaimed, shivering in terror. The watermelon lunged, biting fiercely into his calf. Pain shot through him, and he gasped, struggling to break free. His trouser leg tore under the watermelon's teeth.
Quickly, he drew his wand and waved it. The watermelon was flung several meters away. Vinson rushed over, a mixture of exasperation and concern on his face.
"I forgot to warn you—this is a mutated watermelon. It bites," Vinson explained. "I told you not to run around. Almost every plant here is unique, with its own mutations. This watermelon? Sharp teeth… but delicious. That's why I keep it."
Vinson moved to retrieve the fallen watermelon. Lupin, however, grimaced at the red-stained tears in his trousers.
"You should've stopped me earlier!" he said, scanning the area for relief. His eyes lit upon a familiar plant: Demiguise. Recognizing it instantly as a medicinal herb, he tore off a fresh leaf, crushed it, and pressed it against his wound.
A cooling sensation spread, green smoke rising as the bite healed. The wound was shallow, and the Demiguise's familiar magic seemed sufficient.
Just as he exhaled in relief, Vinson's panicked voice rang out.
"Wait—what did you do?"
Lupin looked back, confused, and saw Vinson approaching with a solemn expression, muttering curses under his breath.
"I just used some Demiguise. See? The wound is already healing," Lupin said, showing his scab-forming bite.
"You didn't use this, did you?" Vinson asked, pointing to the Demiguise nearby. Part of it was missing.
"Yes, this is ordinary Demiguise. I've used it before," Lupin replied. Demiguise had always been his go-to for treating post-full-moon injuries. He trusted it implicitly.
But suddenly, a sharp chill swept over him. He glanced at his calf and froze. Purple spots were rapidly spreading across his skin.
"This… Demiguise is poisonous!?" he whispered, panic rising.
Vinson, once again consulting his magical tools, confirmed the worst: this was a highly toxic Demiguise, indistinguishable in appearance from ordinary Demiguise but deadly. Just one could incapacitate a Dragon. Lupin had used half of it.
"Uh…" Vinson's voice trailed. "Remember to say hello to Merlin for me when you see him."
Lupin barely heard him. The chill intensified, his body stiffened, and breathing grew labored. Words formed in his throat but failed to emerge. Darkness crept into his vision, and he fainted.
Vinson sighed, pulling a small vial of transparent liquid from his robes. It was a self-made antidote—not guaranteed, but better than nothing. He poured it into Lupin's mouth, silently praying, "Merlin bless you… please don't die. If you do, I'll bury you right here."
Time slowed as he administered the antidote, hope and fear mingling in the greenhouse's heavy air. Lupin lay unconscious, and the strange, mutated plants continued their quiet, menacing growth around them.