Cordyceps Twenty-Seven
Cordyceps Twenty-Seven
Professor Moss stared at me for a while, then sighed. “Who gave it to you?” he asked.
“Pardon?” I replied.
He gestured to the project on the table, still sprinkled with a dusting of spores. “The powder, the one you gave to mister Harbin, who I am certain is even now having an unpleasant afternoon. Who gave it to you?”
I wanted to swallow, or work my jaw, but that would have been far too obvious a tell. “Professor Moss,” I hesitated for just a moment before continuing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The professor snorted. “You have some powder on your hands.”
“That’s plausible,” I said. “And there are many reasons why that could be.”
The professor leaned back, arms crossing. He had a nice tweed jacket, with leather patches over the elbows. It looked well-worn, despite everything, and I suspected that he was one of the most active professors in the school. “I could hold you here for a while, you know. At least until that powder on your fingers starts to act up. Then you’ll regret your cheek about as much as Mister Harbin is regretting life at the moment.”
He stared at me, and I felt almost naked under his gaze.
“But you’re not sweating, you’re not too nervous, and your temperature seems normal. So, either you took something to prevent the same sickness, or... or something else.”
I shifted to the side. “You’re not going to ask why Harbin was hypothetically made to be embarrassed?”
The professor tilted his head to the side. “You’re either trying to distract, or you really do want me to know.” He shook his head. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Mister Killua. I have a personal preference for Troll students.. They’re usually from families that have less... tradition within them. They grow up clueless, but innocent. Dragons, on the other hand, are taught how to be noble from a young age, and that means that they often remind me more of snakes than any winged reptile.”
I stared at him, wondering where this would go.
“You want to talk hypotheticals then? Alright. Hypothetically, if you tell me how you’re not affected by the poison on your hands, then I’ll hypothetically listen to why you think Harbin deserves what you did. Then I’ll non-hypothetically decide what to do with you.”
That sounded about as fair as I could hope for. The teachers in this school had a little bit too much power, as far as I was concerned. “Alright,” I agreed. “So, hypothetically, I may have a unique poison resistance skill of unknown rarity that allows me to suffer through a poison, but then gain an immunity to it.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That’s rather... horrific,” he said.
I shrugged. “It usually is. Hypothetically. In any case, this powder has, hypothetically, done what it can to me.” I popped a finger into my mouth, then let it out, free of spores. They actually tasted rather bitter. Like how I imagine sawdust tastes like.
“Interesting. So this was definitely premeditated,” he said.
I glared. “Here’s a non-hypothetical for you, Professor Moss. Last time I had class with you, Harbin decided to start pushing his weight around. He harassed the others in the class, and when I decided to stand up to him, that hurt his fragile ego. A day or so later he and some of his pals cornered me in a washroom and beat me into unconsciousness. I woke up in the infirmary.”
The Professor frowned. “So you poisoned him?” he asked.
“I did no such thing,” I said. “But if someone did poison him, then I’d think that was just rewards for his previous actions. Maybe some embarrassment will knock his ego loose and he won’t be so quick to assault others. I know you saw some of what was happening just outside your class.”
“You were provoking him,” he accused.
“I was stalling for time in the hopes that a responsible adult would appear and do their job.”
Professor Moss snorted. “Some of the teachers here would be furious to hear you speak that way,” he said. At the same time, it felt like he’d calmed down a little. His arms fell by his sides and he shook his head. “You make a decent point. Maybe next time I’ll act a little faster.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I’m sure others would appreciate it,” I said.
“Not you?” he asked.
I pretended to consider what to say next.
In reality, I was working some magic. Specifically, I was twisting my magical aura around, shifting it to my far left and right to try and catch the professor’s attention. Nothing, he didn’t notice it at all.
The next test was easy as well. I used [Blight] on one of the daffodils still in a planter right next to him. Just a little bit, on one leaf at random. It wilted and died and Moss didn’t move an inch.
“I think that I’m able to handle myself,” I said. “But I’m not so cocky that I wouldn’t accept a bit of help.”
He nodded, then turned towards the front of the greenhouse. “Let’s call this one... hypothetically solved,” he said with a grin. “And if you ever want to tell me about that powder and where you got it, do let me know.”
“Is it interesting?” I asked. “Hypothetically, I mean.”
The professor shrugged. “You might not know, but it’s fungal, and not from a strain I’m familiar with.”
He started to walk towards the exit, and I pretended to wipe my brow now that he wasn’t looking right at me, like a student who’d just been stressed out.
My [Blight] spell, controlled by my [Aura of Growth] swept across the desk, and I noticed the project’s daffodil darkening a little bit on the edges.
The loose spores, much weaker than a cutting, would fare much worse.
I jogged after the professor. If he tried to grow anything from those spores... well, good luck to him. I didn’t know how much he’d be able to glean from growing one of my combined mushrooms, but whatever he learned might be too much.
The professor opened the greenhouse door for me, but just as I was about to squeak past, he placed a hand on my shoulder. “One more moment,” he said. “Then you can run off to your lunch.”
“Yes, professor?” I asked.
His eyes met mine. “I can appreciate talent when I see it. Plenty of students take my class because, even if the industrialists would love to deny it, we’re all part of nature in the end, and their industries require it. But some of my students are more green-thumbed than others. I think I’d like to test your competence next class. See if you might want to learn more than just what’s on the surface.”
I blinked. “I’d like that,” I said.
“It’s contingent on you behaving,” he said. “Which means not poisoning others. Hypothetically or not.”
“Right, of course,” I said with an innocent grin. “Thanks professor.”
I ran out of there, putting my all into crossing the open space next to the school. It was nice to just... move. It helped with the tension I was feeling. Also, I wanted to get to the lunchroom sooner rather than later, I was starving.
The cafeteria was full and loud and boisterous as I arrived, but I spotted a few friends, some of whom were in line, and I went up to the front to grab a bite, making sure that I was squeezed in between two groups of Dragons as I did so. I didn’t trust the older Dragons, but I trusted the younger Trolls less.
Once my tray was full, I went back to the others and sat down. There was a lot of hushed whispering and mouth-covered chuckling going on. “What happened?” I asked Mortgomery.
“You’ll never believe it!” he said. “You know Harbin? Of course you know the git. Rumour has it he was caught running towards the Troll dorms with soiled pants.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said with a gasp. “Who saw him?”
“Some of the older Trolls, and they’re the ones that started the rumour, so you know it’s true. But I heard that some of the second years saw him too. Plus, he’s not here now, is he? That proves it’s true.”
Milo leaned over, clearly having overheard. His cheeks were flushed and he seemed excited. “I heard it went everywhere! I keep telling the others it’s because you put the fear of Dragons in him!”
I laughed. “I don’t think I’m that scary, but it’s nice to see him get some comeuppance, isn’t it?”
“Yeah!” Milo agreed.
It was easy to forget, sometimes, that as cruel and vindictive as adults could be, children tended to be so much worse.
I grinned, had a filling lunch, then wasted the rest of the afternoon with my new friends, gossipping and trash talking our favourite bully. It was... nice.
***