Despite the intention to give this task his best effort, everything was quickly going down the drain. At least he had not exploded his plant or otherwise killed it yet, so that alone was something the professor could be at least moderately proud of.
...problem was that what came next would negate all of that.
Wand in hand, and now distracted enough not to overthink his casting, Atlas lit the tip of it with a hurried Lumos and searched the ground around him for the modified stink bomb as panic began to sink in. That panic went full blown as his wand's light found his explosive buddy...only to see it kicked away by a Hufflepuff seconds later.
Eyes wide, Atlas took off back towards his work station but only got about a step or two after said Hufflepuff's kick...and a squishy sort of kaboom rocked the nearby area...but the worst part of all of it was the putrid cloud of thick green smoke that blanketed the immediate area like Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and sent reeking tendrils crawling along the floor and around the legs of human and work station alike.
Sour herring. Rotten eggs. Fresh mooncalf dung. Vieux Boulogne. If there was ever a smell to embody the reverse of your Amorentia...it was flooding the greenhouse right now.
...and hiding under your work station did NOT help avoid the smell...as it turns out.