As Seymour's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose; they had slipped when he had started bouncing. "A shrubbery, sire?" he asked, trying to stifle his laughs-- no, giggles. The names of the plants-- devil's snare, venomous tentacula, et cetera, didn't mean much to poor little ignorant Seymour, who hadn't a clue about the magical world of herbology.

And there went the professor again, trashing Will's reputation as the noble knight in shining armor he was. Wasn't that what got them here in the first place? "Just because he might have to go to the loo doesn't mean he's running away," he said acidly, shaking his head. Honestly. Hadn't the man seen him in the shining armor, returning from defeating the giant fanged flying puffskein?