Fire Crab Tree and Oak Leaves

After enjoying their sandwiches with orange juice, Mr. Linde took them to visit several greenhouses. Under artificial control, these greenhouses, with different styles, simulate various natural environments, and each greenhouse has its own distinct smell.

Each time they walked from the wet, rainy path to the steps and opened a new door, it felt like entering a new season and a new world. On the left, you could find a hot and humid South American rainforest—walls and railings were covered with creeping plants, a pond with colorful fish swimming beneath aquatic plants, and herbs on the shore that grew so vigorously it seemed as if they could leap out of the soil. On the right, a temperate forest with vast space and a comfortable climate awaited, with oaks and fir trees standing along the quiet, tree-lined paths.

It was as if someone had traveled the world and decided, "I should capture all of this," and then placed these scenes inside glass houses for visitors to enjoy with wide-eyed wonder.

Some greenhouses even had waterfalls built in the center, mimicking the mist-shrouded mountain climates of faraway lands. In the mist, tall tree ferns stood proudly.

Mr. Linde pointed to these trees with their tender green fern leaves and explained that this species could grow up to sixty or seventy feet tall—"the equivalent of five or six trolls stacked on top of each other." He whispered this comparison to the students of the Scottish School of Magic and Acrobatics. If strong sunlight shone through, these trees, like their ancestors from hundreds of millions of years ago, would silently cast green shadows, providing shelter for the more vulnerable species thriving beneath them.

"This isn't a special design of our park," Mr. Linde noted. "In natural forests, this is exactly how things work." Ferns, the tallest spore plants and the oldest vascular plants, were once dominant land giants, their remains now burning in ironworks or roaring inside cars.

Interestingly, within this fern-dominated greenhouse, a rare gymnosperm was also on display. To Anthony, it looked no different from millions of other green and lovely plants. According to Mr. Linde, this species was unique to an archipelago and had become endangered due to threats from mining and fires.

"Endangered?" Stinson asked, looking carefully. "But isn't this the same plant we tie to the fire crab?"

Her classmates squinted and leaned in to inspect it. "I think so... they do look similar. But why do we tie branches of it to fire crabs?"

Linde raised an eyebrow. "What crab?"

"Wait a minute, let me look through my notes." The student who had started writing his thesis on the train rummaged through his papers. "It's not this, not this. Ah, I remember now! Professor Kettleburn said, something about food habits, uses, breeding conditions. Oh, I found it!"

He pointed to a line in his notes and read aloud: "When fire crabs feel threatened, they shoot flames from their tails. If specific branches are tied to their bodies, the flames will ignite the branches instead of human hands."

"I don't understand, what's the point of doing this?" asked Mr. Linde, confused.

"You, you use this to tie crabs?" he asked, baffled.

Anthony explained, "No, I've seen pictures of them. They're more like turtles than crabs. Whoever named them must have forgotten how to spell 'turtle'."

"Wait, it's not over yet!" The student flipped another page and continued reading, "The smell and smoke of the burning fire crab tree branches help calm and relax the fire crabs, even inducing a hypnotic effect. In areas where fire crabs gather, they tend to fight with each other frequently, so they mate in places where fire crab trees grow densely to ensure the continuation of the species. This is why it's called the Fire Crab Tree."

"Fire Crab Tree." Mr. Linde repeated. He had just introduced the plant using its long Latin name.

The student continued, "Normally, one or two branches of the fire crab tree are tied to a fire crab's tail. However, when transporting a large number of fire crabs—note, remember to apply for a permit first—it's recommended to tie up the branches and also place an additional fire crab tree in the freight car."

Mr. Linde murmured, "One... tree?"

"I suppose it's some sort of fire safety measure," Anthony said with a chuckle.

...

When they found a salamander model in the greenhouse, Mr. Linde looked at the students' faces and proactively asked before introducing it: "What is this to you?"

"Salamander, I think." The student said hesitantly, "But this one is bigger, and here..." He opened his mouth and pointed to his upper jaw, "It looks different."

Anthony asked, "What do you call the Botanical Garden?"

"A replica of a fossil specimen." Mr. Lind said. "That fossil is very important and is affectionately called 'Liz' by researchers. It is thought to be possibly the earliest known reptile, but some people think it belongs to A certain amphibian..." He said, looking at the wizards in front of him with some uncertainty.

Anthony asked with interest: "Where does this disagreement come from?"

"The larvae of amphibians live in the water." Linde said, his voice more confident. "Amphibians also need to lay eggs in the water. Because they have a waterproof membrane called 'amnion', reptiles can lay eggs on the shore. , their eggs will not lose moisture and dry out in the air. But, you see, if we only have one fossil, it is difficult for us to determine whether its eggs have amniotic membranes."

Anthony asked the student next to him: "Do salamanders have amniotic membranes?"

"What?" The poor student didn't understand Mr. Linde's introduction just now, which was full of long and difficult vocabulary.

So Anthony took a different approach and asked, "How do salamanders reproduce?"

But judging from the name alone, salamanders should and should not need to crawl into the water to lay their eggs. If he remembered correctly, the way to kill a salamander was to pour water on it.

"Oh, they don't reproduce, at least not like other creatures." The student understood this time and happily explained, "They are born from fire. Put the salamander into the fire, and as long as it burns long enough, it will Can give birth to new salamanders."

"No eggs?" asked Mr. Linde.

"No." The student said firmly.

The student with the notes said rigorously: "The mainstream academic community thinks there is no such thing."

"Mainstream academia?" Anthony asked. "Well, what do the less mainstream academia say?"

"I saw a statement - very unconventional, very unprofessional, I would never write this on a test paper - that after a salamander eats fire, it will, uh, expel some invisible ash; when the fire continues When burned, the ashes will turn into invisible seeds; when the nihilistic tears of the salamander drop on the invisible seeds, an undetectable salamander grass will grow, and then the salamander grass will be immediately ignited by the flames, creating a small fire. lizard."

"Brilliant," said Mr. Linde.

"Did I mention Occam's razor?" Anthony asked thoughtfully.

"No, what is that, Professor?"

Anthony shook his head: "Forget it, it's nothing."

He remembered why he had left out the section on Occam's razor—magic was the thing that made Occam's razor malfunction.

It desperately adds assumptions and conjectures to its own world, and then presents everyone with a messed up reality. The conjecture that is complex and difficult to verify may be the more correct one. The beauty of simplicity in Muggle science no longer exists here. Instead, there are only complicated, exquisite, and precariously stacked bone china teacups covered with floral patterns, and some teacups even have several legs.

As he continued to move forward with Mr. Lynde, who was trying to suppress his doubtful expression, Anthony asked: "By the way, where did you see this theory, Mr. Plunkett?"

"A tabloid," the student said. "Flowers and Blotts used it to wrap the books I ordered this year. I think I accidentally bought so many that my wrapping paper could almost make up a magazine..." …My mom said it was all crazy nonsense, but it was actually quite interesting."

Anthony said clearly: "The Quibbler."

He heard a clerk at Flourish and Blotts complain about the magazine, saying, "Even if they got an interview with Lockhart, it would probably be "Gilderoy Lockhart, Hero of the Mountain: I Helped the Yeti Get Rid of It" Harassment Fly" and stuff like that."

…

After passing this greenhouse, a mixture of magic and non-magic, their subsequent journey suddenly became relaxed and casual. Before Mr. Lind takes them to each greenhouse, he will first confirm with his colleagues that no tourists are currently visiting the room, and then they can enjoy a frank exchange between wizards and Muggles.

He even took them on a tour of his proud collection, which would not normally be open to the public. According to him, this was something that even Professor Sprout praised.

Unlike humans, who are restricted by the Statute of Secrecy, Britain's plants - and plants from all over the world - don't care if one another is magical or not.

In addition to the dozen or so magical creatures encountered in places not yet monitored by the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Lind (and other botanists) have apparently encountered many plants that are less aggressive and less obviously magical. They are either living in a hidden working area in the botanical garden, or they have become images and specimens, labeled with adjectives such as "precious" and "rare", hanging on the walls of corridors and placed in glass showcases.

Seeing leaf specimens on a wall, Anthony suddenly remembered something. He took out the leaves that students had secretly mixed in from his pocket and compared them with various leaves on the wall.

"What is this?" Mr. Linde noticed his movement and turned to look, "Oak leaf?"

"Okay, oak tree." Anthony said, finding an oak leaf from the wall, looking at it, nodding, and putting the leaf back into his pocket.

Linde pointed to a sealed leaf specimen in the distance: "Speaking of oak trees, there are also oak leaves there, but that one is a bit strange."

Anthony and the students all leaned outside the glass cover and looked carefully at the oak leaves inside that were carefully preserved but still looked no different from the dead branches beside the trash can, in the puddles, or in the ruts on the mud. Study it from every angle.

"What's weird?" Anthony asked.

Linde smiled and said: "Can't you see? Professor Sprout told me that something is not right about them."

"Magic hybrid?" a student asked in a muffled voice, almost squishing his nose on the protective shield.

"Unfortunately, no," Mr. Lind said. "Professor Sprout found some...I don't remember what she said on these leaves. In short, she concluded that there were some magical creatures here. There was a fight in the tree."

"How can this be seen?" Anthony leaned over more curiously and looked down at the small group of leaves from the heads of several furry students.

"I know!" Toller suddenly shouted, "The Belby test!"

"No, it's the Purvis test!"

Anthony, as a Muggle Studies professor who lacks basic magic education at Hogwarts and puts aside potions, herbal medicine, magical animals and other courses during self-study, listened to the students' discussions one by one. Various methods to identify the growing environment, physical condition, and magical value of herbs.

Professor Sprout should be very pleased that the practical activities of this Muggle Studies class have almost turned into a review and consolidation class on herbal medicine.

Watching the students arguing about what spell Professor Sprout should use ("No, that one is destructive! The leaves can't be so intact."), Anthony turned around and asked Lind: "Why did you think of letting Pomona detects them?"

"Of course because I myself also suspected that it might have something to do with magic." Mr. Linde said, "I didn't want to collect them at first, but the traces in the forest showed that creatures came not long ago and stayed here for a long time. If magic wasn't involved, I'd say the traces were human... but the human-like creature was acting in a very erratic way, almost stumbling around in the woods like it was drunk. And I'm pretty sure that if it really was a human If so, I should have encountered it long ago."

"Then what? What is it?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Linde. "The oak was broken in half, and at a very strange height, Professor Anthony, very strange. The trunk seemed singed. And the leaves, too, you see. The bottom one. I immediately knew that there were some strange things in the forest, collected some samples and came back immediately. Professor Sprout said that I might have met a wizard. There are always some bold wizards who like to wander around. Then we encountered all kinds of dark magic things in the forest."

"Where did you collect it?" Anthony asked with concern.

Mr. Linde smiled and said: "You asked exactly the same question as Professor Sprout. My answer is also the same: a good and remote place on the edge of Greece. The locals call it Wetmore Forest."