The second morning of the school term arrived much earlier for Vinson than he expected. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar surroundings, or perhaps simply nerves, but he woke long before dawn. Outside the window, the sky remained pitch-black, dotted with a few lonely stars. The whole room felt unnervingly quiet, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl somewhere beyond the castle walls.
Still half-dazed, Vinson sat up and rubbed his forehead, trying to orient himself. He had stayed at Hogwarts many years before as a student, but living here again—this time as a professor—felt strangely foreign. Even so, the discomfort didn't stop him from moving on to what he needed to do next.
He leaned over the edge of the bed, reached beneath it, and pulled out a small ordinary-looking suitcase—the same one he had brought during his interview. With a practiced motion, he lifted it by the handle and tossed it into the middle of the room.
The moment it hit the floor, the suitcase expanded rapidly, unfolding and shifting until a full-sized door stood upright where the luggage had landed. Within seconds, the transformation was complete.
This was the spare entrance to his Plantation.
He had tested it previously and confirmed that, although Hogwarts restricted Apparition, his personal portal remained unaffected. Its function relied not on magic similar to Apparition but on the mutated wood it was crafted from—wood with the rare property of "spatial positioning." Because of that, the portal operated independently of the castle's protections and could not be detected by the usual anti-teleportation measures.
Precisely for that reason, no one could ever be allowed to discover it.
With this door, Vinson could move people in and out of Hogwarts freely. Such a capability, in the eyes of the school administration, would be an enormous security risk. If Dumbledore learned about it, Vinson felt certain the headmaster would insist the portal be removed immediately.
The door swung open soundlessly. Vinson stepped through.
The world shifted.
For safety, the exit on the Plantation side had been positioned beneath his Whomping Willow. If anyone else ever dared step onto this portal… well, Vinson could only hope the Willow left behind something resembling a recognizable body.
Inside the Plantation, the sky remained as dark as the one outside Hogwarts. Lupin was not on duty at this hour, so Vinson found himself completely alone—at least, in terms of human company.
Almost at once, the Devil's Snare detected his presence. Thick vines unfurled and whipped toward him with enthusiastic energy, swaying and bouncing like an overly affectionate pet. Vinson laughed quietly and pushed the vines away.
"Don't be like that," he chided gently. "You want to come outside with me? Not yet. Later, when there's light."
The plant responded by tugging insistently at his sleeve with one of its vines, refusing to accept the answer.
"All right, all right," he said with a sigh. "I'll take you out later. Be patient."
Ever since the Devil's Snare mutated and gained its parasitic trait, it had developed an attachment—quite literally—to Vinson. It loved hitching a ride on him and often begged silently to follow him out into the world. Vinson didn't consider it a burden. If anything, it offered him extra protection; should anything happen, the Snare would defend him without hesitation.
After calming the plant, Vinson continued deeper into the Plantation until he reached the Tree of Wisdom.
"Eldera," he muttered.
A glowing panel appeared before him:
[Name: eldera (Tree of Wisdom)]
[Species: Oak]
[Level: 3]
[Characteristics: Object Analysis, Soul Connection]
[Status: Growing (99%)]
The progress bar had finally reached its familiar yet frustrating final stage: ninety-nine percent.
Every time the tree neared full growth, it stalled at this exact threshold until something unique triggered its next mutation. Vinson remembered the first time it happened—during his fifth year at school, shortly after his sister had been injured. The tree awakened the ability "Soul Connection." The second time occurred after he returned from his travels abroad, granting it "Object Analysis."
Now, on the verge of the tree's third evolution, Vinson suspected the catalyst might be Harry Potter. The progress bar had only begun to change whenever the boy was near. He couldn't be certain, of course, but the correlation seemed too strong to ignore.
Still, without concrete answers, all he could do was wait.
After checking the tree, Vinson made a full round of the Plantation. He let his magic flow outward as he passed each plant, allowing his "mutation" ability to subtly influence their growth. Only by receiving his magic regularly could the plants continue evolving under his control.
Once he finished, he stepped back through the portal into his office. Dawn had begun to paint faint colors across the sky. As promised, the Devil's Snare curled around his arm in a parasitic pattern, traces of its dark vine-like lines spreading across his skin like webbing. Fortunately, everything remained hidden beneath his robe.
Vinson glanced up at the class schedule pinned to the wall and sighed. The realization struck him again: he barely had anything to do.
Only three lessons per week—one for each of the third-, fourth-, and fifth-year students. And those single lessons were shared across all four houses. No wonder Professor Kettleburn had so much spare time for dragon research while he taught here.
Vinson had once seen Professor McGonagall's timetable; it was so full it looked suffocating. Compared to hers, his own schedule felt almost embarrassing. Still… free time was free time.
After a moment of contemplation, he straightened his robe and made his way toward the Great Hall for breakfast.
The corridors of Hogwarts washed over him with a wave of nostalgia. The paintings murmured among themselves, suits of armor clanked faintly, and staircases shifted in their usual unpredictable manner. The castle felt alive in a way he had forgotten.
The Devil's Snare, however, experienced a very different kind of excitement. Its vines kept sneaking out from beneath Vinson's robe, brushing curiously against passing objects like a mischievous child exploring a toy shop. That didn't last long.
As they passed a suit of armor, the armor suddenly swung its massive sword downward. The blade sliced off a vine in an instant.
The Devil's Snare recoiled in shock and hastily withdrew all its tendrils, clearly understanding the danger. It didn't attempt to touch anything else after that.
Vinson soon reached a staircase and stopped. The moving stairs had divided into two separate directions—left and right. He frowned. He didn't remember them behaving this way when he was a student.
Before he could choose a path, a transparent figure materialized in the air. The Fat Friar floated forward, smiling warmly.
"Left is the way, Professor Vinson," the ghost said cheerfully.
As a former Hufflepuff, Vinson knew the Fat Friar well. The kindly monk-like ghost possessed the deep friendliness typical of the House. Unlike Peeves—who rarely spoke a single honest word—the Fat Friar could always be trusted.
"Thank you," Vinson replied, stepping onto the left staircase. After a moment, he added with a small laugh, "Do you still remember me? From six or seven years ago, when I studied here?"
"Of course!" The Fat Friar beamed. "My brain may be fake now, but my memory is much better than when I was alive! Ha!"
He burst into hearty laughter at his own joke. Vinson could only join in politely, unsure whether to laugh at the joke or at the Friar's enthusiasm.
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