Snape didn't know what was going on in the Slytherin common room, and he didn't really care. He was confident in his eye for people, and thought that the group of stinky boys must be frightened and peeing at this time, and even if there were injured people, it would not be surprising, but as long as they were not idiots who had forgotten how to escape, they should not be in the stupid and bubbling Potters...... I mean, stupidly bubbling trolls lost their lives on their hands.

Even in an atmosphere of public opinion where wizards' moral standards are shallow, the accident that led to the death of a student can still cause an uproar, but in other words, as long as it doesn't get to that point, basically no one cares. The magical knowledge of Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology made it easier to heal serious injuries that were life-threatening in the eyes of Muggles, but it also made it less important to be safe - why take it for your child to be beaten to pieces by trolls at school when a comminuted fracture of the whole body could be cured as easily as a mouth ulcer? He's going to be alive again the next morning, anyway, so let's just think it's a good experience.

- What? He fought back with his wand before he passed out bleeding from the seven orifices? Great, how heroic our child is, do you think we should buy him a new broom as a reward?

It is important to point out that the purpose of saying these words is not to make everyone misunderstand that wizard parents are crazy people who exterminate humanity and don't care about the lives of their children at all, but I just want you to understand how terrible the misalignment of common sense is.

Neville Longbottom's ravaged wizarding world's common sense is now being put to the test.

Before the incident, he was about to go to the library to return the "Practical Mushroom Cultivation Guide" that he had borrowed, because Professor Sprout told him that beginners interested in growing herbs had better start with fungi that were relatively easy to cultivate and cost less expensive to cultivate (because the third elder who had almost broken his hand after stealing a lingzhi from his sister's medicine garden to stew chicken had something to say).

Herbal medicine was Neville's favourite, or rather only, subject at Hogwarts. He was very poor at almost all classes that required practice, and Snape even made an exception in Potions class to give him a lower grade than Harry for the class work he submitted, which is telling. Led by Slytherin, many of the students pointed fingers at him behind his back, mocking him for being a squib, and even Gryffindor's own people sometimes had a hard time protecting him, as he often caused accidental injuries when using his wand.

It's not uncommon for freshmen who have been enrolled for less than a year to fall behind in a hands-on class, but Neville's problem is that his weaknesses are not just in practice. He is also not good at endorsing, not good at all sports led by Quidditch, not good at communicating with people, not good at dressing himself...... Even the courage that Gryffindor students regarded as fundamental seemed to him to be a scarce resource.

Neil spoke highly of the Sorting Hat's judgment that Neville was a Gryffindor, and in fact, that was the source of what little affection he had for the broken hat. Unfortunately, as things stand, most people don't think the same way as he does, and Neville has had a hard time at Hogwarts, with little to say to him, except for Hermione, who is so rigid that she is too scared to turn a blind eye to discrimination and bullying, and Harry and Ron, who occasionally find that their conscience wants to care about their classmates.

It is only in the greenhouse, with a wide variety of plants, that he can achieve a temporary peace of mind.

Neville loves plants, they are quiet and beautiful, and they also give off a fragrance ("Not all magical plants can breathe in their scents, Mr. Longbottom...... Mr. Longbottom? Are you still conscious?" What's more, they don't say hurtful things, they don't hit people with their fists, and they don't grow legs and walk away because they don't like you.

Although the Hogwarts conservatories seem to be drifting away from the good impressions of them lately, Neville genuinely enjoys the course of herbalism. Professor Sprout had been busy with dangerous cuttings lately, and it was inconvenient for him to get in and out of the greenhouse, so he borrowed books from the library to teach himself.

Unfortunately, he was blocked on his way to the library by several misbehaving Slytherin students. In the Snake Courtyard, students who bully the "Longbottom's little squibs" as a hobby to cultivate their sentiments

The numbers are exploding, and while it wasn't long before Malfoy, the perpetrator, was forced to stop harassing him because he couldn't bear the endless bites, the new trends that emerged from them weren't so easily discouraged.

Thankfully, despite Snape's backing, the bad boys still had one last bit of respect for the school rules, and the bullying was only about throwing little magic or curses on him that didn't drive Madam Pomfrey crazy, or simply kicking them in the ass.

So when he saw four seniors with smirks on their faces surrounding him, Neville's heart was numb like a puddle of water, and his fear and anger were so indifferent that he couldn't make a wave. He stood there with his head bowed, trying not to resist, but all he could do was hope that they wouldn't spoil the book he was about to return.

His pleas were answered, and the usual bullying that began with "Hey, Longbottom, where are you going?" had just begun, when a troll sat down and fell from the floor above the heads of the five people—judging by the way he responded, it was probably not a serious god who was heard praying.

The unexpected sudden situation stunned all the five people present, Neville was so frightened that he sat on the ground, and the four people surrounding him also subconsciously retreated again and again, and looked at this behemoth that fell from the sky with a big mouth.

The troll seemed to be a little dazed, and sat on the rubble as if it hadn't woken up, shaking its head, its bean-sized eyes swirling back and forth in its sockets. This regained precious time for the five, who had already missed the chance to escape, and Neville's reaction was usually the slowest, but when he got up from the ground, picked up the "Practical Mushroom Cultivation Guide" that had been dropped in his arms, and prepared to tiptoe away with the others, the troll still showed no signs of regaining consciousness - it was still too late.

However, the Slytherin student who was at the back of the four looked back at the troll rubbing its head behind him, and then at Neville, his expression suddenly becoming hideous. Before Neville could realize the seriousness of the problem from that expression, he drew his wand.

"All petrified!"

The sudden shouting alarmed the troll, and it turned its head sluggishly to see a small flesh man who looked like a tongue could lick oil flowers lying straight next to him like a piece of wood, and four other small meat men were running away not far away.

The sight was as confusing as the floor suddenly cracking open and swallowing itself in, but unlike bricks and tiles that could not be eaten, the trolls did not forget what to do when faced with a piece of meat. It reached out and touched the ground a few times, found the stick that had fallen with it, and then used it as a crutch to support itself to its feet. As for the saliva that has been dripping all over the stomach during this period, there is no need to wipe it, and trolls don't have such a strange culture as grooming.

Perhaps it was because the other party was thinking about how to escape while chanting the spell, and the petrification spell that was casually thrown on his face didn't seem to have a very strong effect, and in the rumbling fart of the troll as he got up, Neville also felt his body gradually regain consciousness - if only the sense of smell remained out of order. He didn't care about waiting for his legs to regain the ability to walk, so he crawled on all fours and fled away from the other party.

He knew that it must be funny at the moment, but at the moment of crisis, he really couldn't manage so much.

The troll looked at his stupid appearance and snorted. The fat little meat man with half of his butt desperately trying to crawl away stimulated both his gluttonous and sadistic desires at the same time, he straightened his belly, carried the stick to his shoulder, and then chased after it leisurely with unhurried steps.

Having just been released from the well-fed Room of Need, it was not very hungry yet, and in order not to spoil the taste of the little meat man, it decided to play with it for a while.

Neville didn't know that he had become something like a bicycle made of edible materials in the eyes of the troll, and he had only one thought in his mind, and that was to run. The trolls behind him blocked the way to the main staircase, forcing him to flee to unfamiliar areas, and after exhausting circles, Neville finally found himself in a state of despair

Throughout Hogwarts, apart from the Great Hall and the dormitories, he took the most common route - the side entrance from the castle to the conservatory.

The troll's footsteps were closing in behind him, and now it was too late to turn back, Neville could only hold on to the last shred of hope and push the door open with his shoulder, squeezing through it with great difficulty, and then continued to run for his life, praying that a 1 in 10,000 miracle would happen and that Professor Sprout or some other reliable person would be in the greenhouse.

So the crooked God appeared to him for the second time today.

Neville pushed open the door of the greenhouse, and he was already out of breath from running all the way here, as if a flame was burning in his lungs with every breath, and only perseverance supported him to stumble to this point. However, this was the end of the day, and his overwhelmed legs finally reached their limit, and as soon as he stepped into the greenhouse, he felt his knees go limp, and then he fell to the ground, unable to stand up again.

The impact of the fall nearly darkened Neville's eyes, but he struggled to look up to see what the outcome of his gamble would be, and if there was anyone in the greenhouse who could save his life from the trolls.

In the middle of the greenhouse lay a square table of green flannel, with four benches on all sides, on which sat in a circle four six-foot-tall mandrakes, and behind them there were about twice as many of the same kind of onlookers, and on the flannel were many small square wooden blocks that were half white and half green, as if they were playing some kind of game.

Hearing Neville's movement, the mandrake at the table put down the mahjong tiles in his hand and turned around, but immediately lowered his guard when he saw his face. They recognized this little fat man, who often ran before and after the greenhouse, there was nothing to fuss about, he could do whatever he wanted.

But that's when the trolls appeared. Gardening, like all other skills that require the use of the brain, is not part of their knowledge. However, trolls are omnivores, and in addition to meat, they also love fruits and potatoes, and if they really don't have anything to eat, they can even just hold on to the trunk of a tree and nibble on it - although the wood is not nutritious, it can at least provide a deceptive feeling of satiety, encouraging them to keep moving until they catch their prey.

The troll that smashed the glass wall and burrowed into the greenhouse is in the same mood now as it was when he plunged headlong into a farmer's food warehouse. Most of the ripe fruit in the greenhouse had grown to the size that the average person would not dare to swallow with the help of special fertilizer, but the trolls had no strange indication other than salivating and licking their lips. It doesn't know what a balanced diet is, but it's wonderful that the fat little meat man can still have fruit as a snack.

The troll never thought that the ingredients would take the initiative to lead it to find more delicious food, and it felt that it already had the capital to brag about in front of its own kind from now on. And in gratitude for the kindness of the little meat man, he also decided to start eating with him.

Neville, who was lying on the ground, squirmed in vain, and he no longer had the strength to struggle. If he had been a good, or a little bit of a wizard, he should have drawn his wand and resisted, but he didn't.

At the poker table, the mandrake with the cross scar on his face looked at his sparse hand and at the scene of the troll's murder. Many of the onlookers were already very dissatisfied with the appearance of this stinky guy, but they were reluctant to walk away because of the wonderful picture of someone firing a cannon at any time.

Its hollow eye sockets narrowed, as if considering something.

The troll had grabbed Neville's ankle and lifted him headfirst to his mouth with two fingers.

Mandrake felt that the time was almost ripe.

It stood up and kicked the table over, grabbing the stool with its alternate arm and slamming it into the troll's head, who let out a scream and quickly dropped Neville to cover his bleeding nose with his hand.

The other mandrakes, especially the one that was on the verge of winning, let out a scream of discontent condemning the slippery behavior, and the aftermath nearly sent Neville, who was already dying, to the underworld. But as a new species, they are very united internally, and at this point, they will have to wait until they have killed that stinking monster.

At the table

Each of the three carried the bench, while the others either removed a leg from the table and held it in their "hands", or simply ran to the tool rack, grabbed the shovel and pitchfork, and pounced on the troll like a seventeenth-century village mob.