With a Biting Cabbage cradled carefully in his arms, Harry walked down the street with uncertain steps.
Even though the cabbage had finally quieted down, Harry still felt as if he were carrying a live bomb.
If only he'd just returned this thing to Mr. Vinson, he thought with a pang of regret.
But now that it was in his hands, he couldn't very well just toss it away.
His nerves on edge, Harry arrived at the Dursleys' house, praying nothing would go wrong.
But of course, the thing he least wanted to see happened.
Standing right at the door was Dudley, a candy stick sticking out of his mouth as he glared down the street.
The moment Dudley spotted him, his fat face twisted into a familiar nasty sneer.
"Hey, Potter! Didn't my dad tell you to stay at home?" Dudley barked, raising his chin like a challenge.
Harry pressed his lips together and didn't answer.
As much as he wanted to ignore Dudley, his silence only seemed to enrage his cousin.
Dudley's face darkened. Spitting out the candy stick, he stomped forward and shoved Harry hard.
"Did you hear me, Potter? What're you doing outside?" he shouted.
Harry staggered backward, nearly falling—and worse, he failed to hold on to the cabbage.
With a soft "patta," the green plant tumbled from his arms to the ground.
"This is bad," Harry muttered under his breath.
Sure enough, the spore cabbage was far from happy.
Shaking its leaves angrily, it opened its jagged mouth and let out a low hiss, like a tiny, furious beast.
"What the hell is that thing?!" Dudley recoiled, his eyes wide with fear and disgust.
"I warn you, don't bring this disgusting monster into my house!"
Harry's heart sank. He knew things would only get worse if he didn't act fast.
He crouched down, reaching to grab the cabbage before it could cause more trouble.
But the Biting Cabbage had no intention of going quietly.
With a sudden spring-loaded jump, it launched itself straight at Dudley's belly.
"Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!" Dudley's screams pierced the air as he flailed his arms in a blind panic.
The cabbage clambered up his shoulder and sank its teeth into his face.
"Get it off! Get it off!" Dudley bellowed, spinning and thrashing like a wild boar gone mad.
Harry, watching the chaos, felt a mix of panic and—if he was honest—a flicker of grim satisfaction.
After all, Dudley had bullied him for years. Maybe he deserved a taste of his own medicine.
Fortunately, the cabbage wasn't going for the kill.
After chomping down hard enough to draw blood, it leapt off and dropped to the ground, leaves quivering in triumph.
Dudley clutched his bleeding face and bolted into the house, his shrill cries echoing down the hall.
"Mom! Mom! A monster bit me!"
But no one answered. Mrs. Dursley hadn't come home yet.
Dudley barreled up the stairs with surprising speed, slamming his bedroom door and locking it tight.
Harry let out a slow breath, glancing at the cabbage now wagging its leaves like a victorious warrior.
Scooping it up gently, he muttered, "Well done, little guy. But let's not bite people randomly, okay? Even if he is a brute, we don't want anyone ending up in hospital."
The cabbage twitched as if nodding in agreement, and Harry smiled in relief.
At least it seemed to understand him.
But then a frown crept over his face. "Now, where on earth am I going to hide you?"
He couldn't plant it in the garden; someone would definitely spot it and raise an alarm.
In the end, Harry found an old, broken flowerpot in the storage room and filled it with soil from the garden.
He carefully planted the cabbage and hid the pot in his cupboard under the stairs—his usual hideaway.
By the time he lay back on his narrow bed, the sound of the front door creaking open reached his ears.
The Dursleys were home.
Harry sighed. He knew tonight would be far from peaceful.
The next morning, Harry crawled out of bed, rubbing his temples.
The night had been a disaster. Dudley's hysterical complaints had earned Harry a two-hour lecture from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.
Now, at breakfast, Aunt Petunia shot him a sharp glare.
"You won't get a chance to sneak out again. I'm watching you all day, boy," she snapped.
Harry glanced over at Dudley, who was smugly cramming pancakes into his mouth.
A large gauze patch covered the left side of his face, making him look utterly ridiculous.
But Harry couldn't even enjoy the sight; he was too anxious.
He listlessly stirred the watery oatmeal in his bowl, dread building in his chest.
He'd promised Mr. Vinson he'd return today to learn how to brew Essence of Murtlap.
If he missed the appointment...
"Mr. Vinson will definitely be disappointed," Harry fretted.
Even though Mr. Vinson probably wouldn't be angry, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was letting him down.
"Eat faster! Don't dawdle!" Aunt Petunia snapped.
"As soon as you're done, you're weeding and cleaning the front yard!"
Harry lowered his gaze and muttered, "Yes, Aunt Petunia."
Maybe—just maybe—he could sneak out while working in the yard.
But that hope quickly crumbled.
Every time he glanced toward the house, he saw Aunt Petunia glaring at him from behind the window.
There was no chance she'd let him slip away.
As his heart sank into despair, the doorbell rang.
"Coming!" Aunt Petunia called as she headed for the door.
Harry paused mid-sweep, puzzled. Who could that be?
A moment later, her voice rang out:
"Harry! Come here for a moment."
Confused, Harry set down his tools and trudged toward the door.
When he saw Mr. Vinson standing outside, a wave of relief washed over him.
"Good morning, Harry!" Vinson greeted cheerfully.
"I guessed you might be in a bit of trouble today, so I came to pick you up."
Harry blinked, then nodded quickly. "Good morning, Mr. Vinson."
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Aunt Petunia standing stiffly by the door.
To his amazement, her usual sharp, scowling face was replaced by a stiff, polite smile.
Harry's jaw almost dropped—then it clicked.
Magic.
Vinson, noticing Harry's stunned expression, leaned closer and whispered,
"I've already spoken with your family. I'll take you out for a bit and bring you back tonight."
Harry opened his mouth to protest but froze when he saw Aunt Petunia nodding calmly, as if everything was perfectly normal.
"Well then, shall we go?" Vinson asked with a wink.
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He stepped over the threshold and hurried to Vinson's side.
Once they were a safe distance from the house, Harry whispered, "How did you do that?"
Vinson chuckled softly. "I told Mrs. Dursley that you're participating in a community activity for children. At the end, you'll even get a potted flower." He grinned.
"Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"
Harry couldn't help but snort. "Completely."
"But magic is reliable, isn't it?" Vinson said with a shrug.
"All it took was a small charm. Tweaking a Muggle's memory is child's play—
as long as the Ministry doesn't find out..."