Herbology-The Wandering Blue Lady

I imagine that few of you have ever heard of the little known member of the Nightshade family called Solanum pedazuleum, or the Wandering Blue Lady. It is, I must say, one of the more interesting asterids that I have come across. Though distantly related to as common fare as the tomato and the eggplant, this lady is far from everyday; her closest relative is in fact Solanum atropurpureum, often referred to as the Five Minute Plant for its striking appearance, and Malevolence for the poisonous barbs that lend it.
The plant itself is rather small, and from a distance easily missed or passed over; in fact it is rather ordinary looking at a glance. This is one of the things the makes the Blue Lady so dangerous. It is only from up close that it can be accurately identified, by novice or professional, but by then it is usually too late. The plant is characterized by small, ragged leaves, like a flatter version of the holly leaf, but with more points; she grows from anywhere between four to eight centimeters tall, and never has any more than one slim stalk, and one flower, pale blue at the edges and white at the center. The Lady’s identifying mark comes in the form of a small black dot that appears on the flower’s petals.
The flower only ever has one dot, but it is not always found on the same petal, for the dot moves, slowly and constantly. From more than a few feet away it is usually mistaken for a small insect circling the stamen. Up close it looks like nothing other than a drop of ink, carelessly spilled on a sheet of parchment, swimming around beneath the surface of the flower’s seven petals. No one has ever been able to determine the significance of the Lady’s roving spot.
Like so many of her cousins, the Wandering Blue Lady is poisonous—deadly if eaten; however, her danger is far more elegant. Like all Magical plants, the Wandering Blue Lady is possessed of singular qualities that set it apart from ordinary flora; there are two besides her spot.
The first is this: no one has ever seen the Lady more than once, and no two people have ever seen her in the same location. Whether this is by chance or by design no one can say. There are several theories as to the reason for this; the first is that a combination of rareness, bad luck, and a terribly short life-span has kept more than one person from seeing the Blue Lady. The second is that She does not allow them to.
The fact of the matter is that being one of the few to come across the Lady is rather highly discouraged, for in all but six cases her sighting has been followed by death. This is because of her final quality. The Wandering Blue Lady is said to be, not so much an omen of bad luck as a bringer of it—and she does not carry it in any small quantities.
I heard a story once that the Lady was once a muggle woman, who attempted to steal from a powerful witch. The witch cursed her with such terrible luck that she sought out another witch to save herself. The witch told her that the only way to escape such a powerful curse was to disguise herself so that it couldn’t find her; she agreed and gave the witch everything she had; in exchange she was transfigured into a small blue flower. This is all hearsay of course, and I don’t know that I actually believe it.
I saw the Lady today, looking out my window as I ate my breakfast. Though I was half done eating when I saw her, the next bite I took scalded my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I had been eating cold cereal. In the following twenty minutes an iron fell on my head; the wind blew the front door open breaking my nose; I scraped my knee; ripped my trousers; spilled ink on my favorite shirt, which I was not wearing; stubbed both of my big toes; got caught in a zipper; ran into a wall; and got no less than sixteen paper cuts.
I am writing this article from inside a very small broom closet with my left hand; I do believe I broke my right arm emptying the room of dangerous objects. I feel rather helpless without my wand, which I left on the dining room table in my haste, but perhaps it’s safer this way, for who knows how it will react under these circumstances.
I sincerely hope I survive long enough to write more articles for the dear and loyal readers of our publication, even if I must do it from the inside of a closet. I fear I must leave this off for the time being, for even now I hear what I imagine to be rats gnawing at the walls, and I do believe the wind is picking up outside.
Warmest Regards, _name here_