"Silas Harding flicks his eyes from his schoolwork to the line of Angel's Trumpets plants that border the edge of the table he uses in the Herbology lab. His is growing well, as always - he's always had an affinity for plants, and a greater tolerance for them as well, when compared to his fellow species. His eyes fall to the plant next to his, and he frowns, deeply. His classmate's Angel's Trumpet is obviously dying, and his fingers itch for his wand so he can heal the poor thing, but it's not his place."

"He returns to his schoolwork, which he enjoys doing in solitude in the Herbology classroom, with Professor Longbottom's permission, of course. But still, he glances at the wilting plant. His hand moves towards the pocket of his robe to fetch his wand to take pity on it, when the door opens. He whirls in his seat to see user enter the classroom, his usually stoic face narrowing into a more guarded expression."