Harry had never seen so many magical things in a single day. Even long after he returned to the Dursley household from Diagon Alley, his head still felt light, as if the entire experience had been a dream he might wake from at any moment.
The only thing he regretted was forgetting to ask Hagrid more about his parents. Yet even that disappointment was faint; he told himself there would be opportunities later. If he was really going to Hogwarts, there would surely be time—time to learn magic, time to discover the truth, time to understand everything he had missed.
Because of certain events that happened earlier that month, the Dursley family had finally agreed to move him out of the cupboard and into Dudley's rarely used second bedroom. Compared to the cupboard, the small room felt almost luxurious. Now, as Harry lay in a real bed for the first time in his life, he felt that maybe—just maybe—his life wasn't entirely miserable anymore.
He had a bed.
He had a wand.
He had Hedwig.
He had a teacher who actually cared about him.
And soon, he would be going to Hogwarts.
What would life be like there?
Harry let his imagination wander—lessons, moving staircases, enchanted ceilings—and drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.
"Knock, knock, knock."
Early the next morning, Harry was startled awake by a tapping sound at the window. Still half-asleep, he rubbed his eyes and sat up. An owl with a slightly crooked beak was perched outside, pecking persistently at the dusty glass.
"It's Teacher's owl!" Harry exclaimed, instantly alert.
He scrambled out of bed, hurried to the window, and opened it. The owl swooped inside with an air of impatience, as though mildly offended by the delay. Under its disgruntled gaze, Harry carefully retrieved a beautifully decorated box and a folded letter tied to its leg.
The letter was unmistakably from Vinson.
[
Harry, happy birthday.
The birthday gift may have arrived a little late.
I need to leave Privet Drive for a day to take care of some preparations.
Friendly reminder: be sure to read the instructions for your gift thoroughly.
—Adrian Vinson
]
Harry's heart warmed instantly. He hadn't expected any sort of birthday greeting—he rarely even remembered the day himself, since the Dursleys always ignored it. To receive a present was beyond anything he could have hoped for. His hands trembled slightly as he set the letter aside and focused on the exquisite box.
Inside was a small vial filled with a murky black liquid. Beneath it lay a neatly placed slip of paper.
[
Remember the Biting Cabbage I gave you?
Try adding this potion the next time you water it.
]
"Biting Cabbage?"
Harry turned toward the bedside table. A cracked flowerpot sat there, containing the peculiar plant Vinson had gifted him. At the moment, the Biting Cabbage had buried its mouth in the soil and appeared to be sleeping quietly.
Harry felt a fond, awkward warmth toward it. The little plant had proven surprisingly helpful—just two days ago, it had even retrieved his Hogwarts letter from the Dursleys. Admittedly, his uncle's face had gained a few additional bite marks in the process, but Harry couldn't deny that the outcome had been satisfying.
Ever since that day, the Dursleys had avoided the flowerpot entirely. They refused to go anywhere near the plant, and even Petunia walked around it with a stiff, fearful expression, as if the cabbage might leap out and latch onto her face at any moment. The memory made Harry smile despite himself, though a sliver of unease remained. What if, one day, the Dursleys threw him out because of it? What if they decided the plant—and by extension, Harry—was simply too much trouble?
But then he thought of Vinson, and the worry faded.
He wasn't alone anymore.
Harry approached the flowerpot. The Biting Cabbage immediately jolted awake, baring rows of tiny sharp teeth in warning. But as soon as it smelled his scent, it relaxed again and sank back into the soil, as if acknowledging its caretaker.
Harry exhaled. Even though the plant had never bitten him, the sight of those teeth never failed to send a chill down his spine.
Following Vinson's instructions, Harry hurried to the utility room to fetch a watering can. He filled it with water, uncorked the small vial, and poured the strange potion inside. The black liquid spread through the water instantly.
The surface first turned a faint gray, then gradually deepened into a vibrant scarlet—so red it resembled freshly spilled blood.
Harry frowned and instinctively covered his nose. A metallic scent—sharp and unmistakable—filled the air.
"Is this… really a potion?" he muttered. Despite everything Vinson had taught him about magical brewing, he still couldn't guess the type of potion he was holding.
Unbeknownst to him, the potion was something Vinson had crafted specifically for plant mutation and growth enhancement. Its primary ingredient was Vinson's own blood, infused with traces of his magic—magic that caused plants to mutate, transform, and evolve. To magical plants, Vinson's blood was the most potent stimulant imaginable.
The Biting Cabbage quivered. Its leaves rustled, as though the plant could smell the potion from within the watering can. The stronger the scent became, the more restless it seemed. Finally, with surprising strength for a plant, it lifted itself out of the flowerpot entirely, pulling its roots free as though it could hardly contain its excitement.
Harry blinked. "Easy there—don't rush, little fellow."
He brought the watering can closer, preparing to pour the mixture gently onto the soil. But the Biting Cabbage had no interest in patience. With lightning speed, it lunged forward, sank its sharp teeth into the spout of the watering can, and began guzzling the liquid directly.
Harry stood frozen for a moment.
"…Right. It does have a mouth," he said helplessly.
Within seconds, the cabbage had devoured the entire contents of the watering can. When the last drop was gone, the plant released the can, shuffled back into the flowerpot, and settled down. Its leaves softened, its body drooped, and it buried its head back into the soil without moving again.
"Uh… is that it?" Harry murmured.
He had expected visible magic—sparks, steam, glowing leaves—anything, really. Instead, the plant drank an entire can of potion and immediately fell asleep.
He poked at one of the leaves gently.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
After several attempts, Harry sighed and gave up. He didn't dare pull it out of the soil; the last thing he wanted was to harm the plant, especially after feeding it something that looked so powerful.
He was still staring at the flowerpot in confusion when the bedroom door burst open.
"Get to work, you little monster!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, face red and puffy. "I didn't keep you here so you could lounge around all morning!"
Harry shrank instinctively, though the familiar fear wasn't as strong as it used to be. When his eyes drifted toward the half-healed bite marks scattered across Vernon's cheeks, some of his dread faded entirely.
Vernon followed Harry's gaze to the Biting Cabbage and immediately stiffened. The scars on his face twitched as he recoiled, trembling slightly.
"You'd better get rid of that— that biting thing!" he snapped, backing toward the doorway. "If you don't, I'll call the police! Do you hear me?"
With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving Harry staring after him, baffled.
The police? Harry wasn't sure the Muggle police could handle a magical plant. If anyone were to respond, it would probably be the Ministry of Magic—not that Harry wanted either option to happen.
Maybe… maybe he should give the plant to Vinson tomorrow. That would be safest for everyone.
Yes, Harry thought. I'll ask Teacher to look after it for a while.
For now, though, he sat on the edge of his bed, watching the peacefully sleeping Biting Cabbage, wondering just what kind of plant it would become after drinking that strange, scarlet potion.