Malnourished?
Vinson couldn't help feeling puzzled. The diagnosis didn't seem to match what he saw. What could have caused this? He had never encountered such a strange situation, at least not with a plant as sturdy and famously resilient as a Biting Cabbage.
Frowning, he crouched down and studied the plant more carefully. He ran his fingers lightly across the leaves. Although they drooped slightly, there were no signs of withering or decay—no yellowed edges, no softness, no dryness. If anything, the cabbage looked perfectly healthy aside from its drooping posture.
Vinson pinched a bit of soil between his fingers. As he rubbed it, he noticed it was unusually loose, pale, and tinged with gray. That was definitely not normal. The soil of a healthy Biting Cabbage should be rich and dark, almost glossy from the magical nutrients it absorbed and released.
Harry, who had been watching anxiously, finally broke the silence. "Teacher… is it sick?"
Vinson shook his head gently. "Don't worry, Harry. The Biting Cabbage itself is very healthy. It may just be… lacking something. A little nutrition should do the trick."
If the plant was suffering from malnutrition, then restoring its nutrients would solve the problem. Straightforward enough—or at least, it should have been.
Vinson stood and walked toward the storage room. Harry remained behind, keeping a careful eye on the cabbage as though expecting it to bite him at any moment. The plant, however, was surprisingly quiet, almost lethargic.
When Vinson returned, he was carrying a large black bag. The closer Harry got to it, the more a sharp, pungent odor drifted out, forcing him to cover his nose.
"Teacher… what is that?"
"Fertilizer," Vinson replied simply.
But this wasn't ordinary fertilizer. This was Dragon Dung Mix, a special blend created by Professor Sprout. The main ingredient was exactly what the name suggested—Dragon dung—but the recipe was a closely guarded secret within the Herbology department. Sprout swore by it.
Vinson himself had tweaked the recipe by adding a small amount of his own blood, making the mixture even richer in magical properties. Unfortunately, this particular bag had been sitting unused in his storage room for quite some time, and the smell had grown… potent.
Vinson waved his wand. A broom in the corner floated toward Harry, its handle shortening while the bristles reshaped themselves into a small shovel.
"Come on, Harry," Vinson encouraged, setting the bag down. "You fertilize it."
Harry eyed the bag, then the cabbage, then the shovel, his expression shifting between determination and regret. Finally, he took the shovel.
"Just dig a little," Vinson instructed. "Not too deep. Then sprinkle the fertilizer and cover it back up."
Harry nodded and knelt beside the pot. Carefully, he dug a small hole near the roots. But when he opened the fertilizer bag, an even stronger smell blasted out. Harry recoiled, coughing, and stumbled several steps back.
"Oh… wow," he groaned.
Even Vinson winced. He instinctively took a few steps away as well. Perhaps—just perhaps—Professor Sprout should consider adding a pleasant fragrance to the formula.
Noticing his teacher retreating, Harry pouted. "Teacher, why don't we use the Bubble-Head Charm?"
Vinson blinked, as though the idea had only just occurred to him. "You're right, Harry."
With a quick flick of his wand, two transparent bubbles formed around their heads. The smell still seeped through faintly, but at least it was bearable.
Bracing himself, Harry scooped a small amount of Dragon Dung Mix and sprinkled it into the pit before covering it again. Almost immediately, the Biting Cabbage stirred. Its leaves trembled, as though sensing nourishment.
"It's working, Teacher!" Harry said excitedly.
Vinson nodded, though a question lingered in his mind. Why would the cabbage need nutrients so desperately?
To investigate, he shifted aside the freshly buried fertilizer. Shockingly, the mix had already turned gray and powdery—its nutrients drained completely, just like the soil before it.
"Continue, Harry," he said thoughtfully. "Give it another dose."
Harry repeated the process. This time, the cabbage reacted even more dramatically. Its leaves shivered vigorously, and the fertilizer's rich color dulled almost instantly, as if the cabbage were sucking the life out of it.
Harry's eyes widened. "It's not… starving, is it?"
Before he could start a third round, the Biting Cabbage suddenly opened its mouth wide. Rows of sharp, jagged teeth gleamed.
Vinson watched, eyebrows raised.
Harry, however, lit up. The cabbage had a mouth—of course! He remembered how it drank an entire pot of Potion directly before.
Inspired, he quickly scooped a small pile of fertilizer and, with only a second of hesitation, shoved it straight into the cabbage's waiting mouth.
The cabbage chomped down with surprising eagerness. A muffled "gurgle-gurgle" echoed from inside its leafy body. Then it abruptly spat out a shriveled clump of grayish residue—right onto Harry's shoe.
Harry stared down, horrified, and stepped back. "Ugh…"
But as the feeding continued, the cabbage devoured the fertilizer at an alarming rate. Dragon Dung Mix was one of the most nutrient-dense fertilizers in the magical world; ordinary plants could survive for months on just a pinch. But this cabbage tore through the supply as if bottomless.
Pile after pile vanished into its mouth, only to be expelled moments later as ash-like remains. Its appetite seemed endless, unnatural.
Where were all the nutrients going?
Finally, after nearly three entire bags of Dragon Dung Mix, the plant showed signs of change.
The cabbage lifted itself slightly—just a little—and then…
It burped.
Vinson and Harry froze.
"…Right," Vinson muttered.
The Tree of Life's internal observation lens activated. New information floated before Vinson's mind:
[Species: Biting Cabbage]
[Level: 2]
[Trait: Gigantism]
[Status: Growing (0%)]
"Gigantism?" Vinson murmured. The cabbage didn't look any bigger. Not taller, not wider. Completely unchanged.
"Harry, that's enough," he said. "It must have undergone some kind of variation."
Harry lifted the cabbage and weighed it in his hands. It felt exactly the same—same size, same weight, same bitey attitude.
"Have you changed at all?" Harry asked, lifting it close to his face. "Can you show me?"
The cabbage paused… then nodded.
It hopped to the floor.
Its mouth snapped shut. A faint black glow radiated from its leaves.
Vinson's eyes widened.
"Harry—back!"
From the cabbage, a sudden surge of magic pulsed outward—dense, powerful, overwhelming for a simple plant.
Something was definitely happening.
And whatever it was, it wasn't small.
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