"Oh—Merlin's beard!"
Arms loaded with bags of food, Rubeus Hagrid froze on the path. He had just come from the gamekeeper's grounds, planning to patrol the area around the school and the Forbidden Forest.
There were always a few young witches and wizards who liked to wander too close to that boundary.
Hagrid enjoyed munching on snacks while he made his rounds.
But today—without a doubt—was the most shocking day of his entire career as Hogwarts' gamekeeper.
He was staring at a gigantic tree spirit.
And beneath it stood a student—completely unharmed—with the monster of a tree behaving astonishingly gentle toward him.
"What… what in Merlin's name is that thing?" Hagrid dropped his food and cautiously tried to approach Chu Yang.
The Whomping Willow immediately mistook this for an attempt to harm Chu Yang and lashed out—smacking Hagrid, giant bloodline and all, straight into the air.
Hagrid flew backward and crashed into a nearby bush.
Seeing Hagrid get swatted away, Chu Yang cut off his magical output at once. He grabbed a branch and snapped angrily, "Don't you go hitting people at the drop of a hat!"
The sudden interruption of magic sent the newly awakened "intelligence" of the Whomping Willow into panic and rage. Acting on instinct, it wrapped its branches around Chu Yang, trying to force him to produce more magic to feed it.
"I give you magic because I want to," Chu Yang said coldly. "If I don't want to, you wait—understand?"
In his previous life, Chu Yang despised pets that were pampered daily but turned on their owners at critical moments.
Food-aggressive dogs? He beat the habit out of them—so they understood what master meant.
While Hagrid was still tangled in the bushes, Chu Yang tore the branches off his body, leapt to the side of the tree, and drove a heavy punch straight into the trunk—
Fish-Man Karate: Shark Tile True Punch!
Crack—!
The Whomping Willow's trunk shattered like broken glass, countless fractures spiderwebbing out from the impact point.
Faced with death, the tree's newborn intelligence felt true terror. Like a frightened animal, it collapsed to the ground, trembling in submission.
Only then did Chu Yang spare it.
He used magic to heal the cracks in its bark—one slap, one sweet date.
"That thing's got some strength," Hagrid groaned as he crawled out of the shrubbery.
With his build, even one hit had left him dizzy.
Still, his fascination with the Whomping Willow quickly overshadowed any physical discomfort. He staggered closer, eyes shining.
"Could you ask your… pet… to calm down? I don't mean any harm!" Hagrid called out.
"It's fine—you can come closer," Chu Yang replied. "This is the school's Whomping Willow, not my pet."
"The Whomping Willow?" Hagrid stared at the tree—now nearly twice its original size—murmuring, "You're having me on… that thing's the Whomping Willow? Looks more like a Killing Willow…"
Apparently offended, the Whomping Willow swayed its massive body in protest.
"Oh—oh! Easy there! Easy!" Hagrid raised both hands quickly. He really didn't want to be swatted again.
The Willow immediately settled down.
"It understands me?" Hagrid froze—then his face lit up with delight. "It's communicating! This goes beyond plants—this is an animal! A magical creature!"
As a devoted enthusiast of magical creatures, Hagrid instantly fell in love with the tree—and magnanimously forgave it for attacking him moments earlier.
That hit was just a little affectionate greeting, he told himself through gritted teeth.
He rushed forward and hugged the trunk, rubbing against it contentedly.
The sheer creepiness of the scene sent chills down Chu Yang's spine.
The Whomping Willow clearly disagreed. It shook violently, like a dog shaking off fleas, trying to dislodge Hagrid.
Hagrid tumbled off, rolling across the ground, groaning as he looked up—
Only to see Chu Yang safely protected by branches, completely untouched.
"Why does it treat people differently?" Hagrid lamented, heartbroken. He'd forgiven it so generously—why was he the only one getting nothing out of it?
In the glow of the setting sun, several figures approached.
"Mr. Chu Yang, I'm very glad to see you unharmed," said Albus Dumbledore, dressed in silver robes, walking forward with Minerva McGonagall behind him. "But perhaps you could explain why the Whomping Willow I personally planted now looks like this?"
Chu Yang hopped down and bowed slightly. "I'm not entirely sure of the exact cause, Headmaster—but it seems my magic affected it."
"Your magic…" Dumbledore murmured, realization dawning. His expression grew complicated. "It appears we still lack a sufficient understanding of your magic—particularly its effects on plants, and especially rare magical flora."
"When Professor Sprout told me about your performance in the wand shop, I should have considered this possibility. That oversight is on me…"
He stepped closer to the Whomping Willow, eyes like a starry sky as he examined it carefully.
McGonagall and Chu Yang followed quietly behind.
After a day filled with shocks, the elderly deputy headmistress looked utterly drained—she seemed to have aged several years overnight.
She no longer had the energy to argue with Chu Yang, but she still said, "In the crisis, you gave your classmates the chance to escape and drew the Whomping Willow away on your own. Reckless, perhaps—but undeniably noble. Therefore, Slytherin gains ten points."
Dumbledore turned back with a smile. "I'll personally add another ten points to Slytherin. You didn't disappoint me, Mr. Chu Yang."
Chu Yang shrugged. "Thank you for your generosity, Headmaster and Professor. I'm sure the Slytherin students will be thrilled."
"Yesterday it was the Sorting Hat. Today it's the Whomping Willow," Dumbledore sighed lightly. "You do have a talent for surprises. Still, Mr. Chu Yang, I sincerely hope tomorrow brings news of you attending classes quietly. That is the heartfelt wish of a hundred-year-old man."
His tone suddenly turned stern. "And one more thing—stop letting your classmates sleep on the floor. At this rate, the hospital wing on the second floor will run out of beds!"
"In just two days, Slytherin alone has filled it to capacity. Are you trying to shut down the school infirmary?"
Chu Yang raised his hands innocently. "That's not something I can control. It depends on whether they stop provoking me. They start it—I retaliate—and you approved that. Unless you're willing to give me a single room?"
Dumbledore fell silent.
And felt very, very tired.
Perhaps, he thought, he should never have persuaded Chu Yang to go to Slytherin in the first place.
He had imagined Chu Yang using his talent to gradually change Slytherin's views on Muggle-borns—to reshape their misguided pride.
Instead—
The boy used his fists.
Turns out, fighting was a talent too. Simple. Brutal.
A wizard who solved problems without a wand—
A close-combat wizard, if there ever was one.
(End of Chapter)