Pushing open the greenhouse door, Sean was sure his heartbeat had sped up.
What if Professor Sprout wasn't here?
What if she'd already finished with the venomous fangs?
What if—
The thought flashed by and vanished, because he saw the plump professor hard at work.
"Professor Sprout."
Sean jogged over, and even his voice rippled with excitement.
"Welcome, Mr. Green," Professor Sprout greeted him kindly. "Come with me—today we've got something special to process."
Sean's jog became a sprint, as if one blink and Professor Sprout might disappear. A plump witch let out an "oh!" and lifted the vines above his head as he passed.
Sprout walked ahead at a lively clip, leading him through the familiar Puffapod section.
"Our dear Puffapods are about to ripen. Once the pink pods get a bit bigger, the shiny seeds will jump down. We have to harvest them before they do, or the whole greenhouse will burst into Puffapod blooms."
She gave a pod a squeeze, speaking with the cheer of a good harvest. "Would you like to pick some, Mr. Green?"
Sean answered with a firm "Mm," and the big and little wizards stopped at an oak workbench. Laid out on top were all sorts of snake fangs.
"I help prepare a few ingredients every year around this time… Ah, look at these fangs—sturdy things. Mr. Green, do you know how to tell them apart?"
With a flick of her wand, several fangs floated before Sean. They were sharp and gleaming, and clearly a bit different from one another.
"Venomous fangs have tiny grooves inside," Sean said after a close look.
"Exactly right," Sprout said, a little surprised. "A keen eye."
A mortar and pestle sailed into Sean's hands. "Try grinding some, Mr. Green."
Sean didn't hesitate. Grinding wasn't hard—especially with a pestle that seemed to have a bit of magic in it. He guessed it was something like a Crushing Charm; it sped him along.
Sprout watched him work, then flicked her wand. Ten mortars began pounding all at once across the table.
"For a Wit-Sharpening Potion, we grind them finer; for a Cure for Boils, this texture is about right," she said.
Sean stopped. He'd already finished ten lots. Not too slow, he thought—then noticed all ten mortars pounding in unison. Hm. Wizards really are overqualified.
He didn't dwell on it, and instead carefully noted the grind of the venomous fangs and tried to spot differences between venomous and non-venomous fang powder.
Regrettably, he couldn't.
"Oh, Mr. Green," Sprout laughed—tilting her hat as if his nose might touch the powder. With another flick, the powders decanted into different-colored glass vials: pale red for venomous, white for non-venomous.
Sean had his aha moment.
"The way the sunflowers are tilting tells me you'd better be off, Mr. Green." Sprout tapped her fingers in a little farewell.
Only then did Sean realize an hour and a half had passed. He quickly said goodbye, asking quietly, "Professor, may I come back this afternoon?"
"Of course. The greenhouse welcomes every child who loves nature."
Sean pushed back out through the door.
That afternoon, Ravenclaw had its first Transfiguration lesson with Gryffindor. He had no desire to be turned into a pocket watch—or a map—so he picked up the pace. Along the way, he opened his panel:
[Herbology Insight: Locked (59/90)]
[Apprentice-level Herbology Insight will unlock the Herbology domain's Apprentice title]
Fang processing didn't count as Herbology after all. He scrolled on:
[Levitation Charm: Apprentice (4/300)]
[Scouring Charm: Apprentice (70/300)]
[Lumos: Novice (19/900)]
Lumos was at Novice. Sean lit his wand; it was clearly brighter than at Apprentice level, and faster—easier, too. To make it blaze like it had in class, he'd need to build the emotion first—and even then, it might not work. He'd already tried during the lesson and couldn't reach that brightness again.
The Transfiguration classroom was on the second floor; Professor McGonagall's office was not far away. Inside, he saw a not-so-long brown table, and behind it a chair from the Plantagenet era.
An antique. Hogwarts really was loaded, Sean thought.
Then he spotted Michael looking torn, a black-haired girl beside him, apparently weighing whether to sit with Sean. Sean shook his head and sat by Hermione. A cage sat next to her, a squeaking rat inside. Even with two to a desk, the seat by Hermione was always empty—until now.
"Sean, did you see the tabby on the desk? She's adorable."
Sean looked up. A silver-gray tabby cat sat primly on the tabletop.
"Mm," he said, nodding.
As they spoke, a loud creak sounded at the back. Harry and Ron burst in, flustered. They were already three minutes late.
Hermione glanced back, then pressed her lips and shook her head.
"Made it. If we'd been late, Professor McGonagall would've scared us to death," Ron said in relief.
Seeing they still hadn't sat, Sean knew there was no dodging it. The tabby sprang down and became a tall witch in deep green robes, head tipped as she eyed the talking Weasley.
Ron's eyes flew wide; his lips clamped tight—his expression read: "Harry, are we going to survive this?"
"Amazing," he tried weakly.
"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps I should turn you and Mr. Potter into pocket watches—so at least one of you might be on time?"
"We got lost."
"Then maps would do—surely you don't need a map to find your seats?"
A ripple of laughter went through the room.
"Gryffindor, minus two points," McGonagall added.
Hermione shot Harry and Ron a speechless look. Gryffindor living up to its reputation, Sean thought.
"Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," McGonagall said sternly. "Anyone who fools around in my class will leave—and never return. You have been warned."
She flicked her wand. The desk before her turned into a pig and trotted around the room—then turned back. The first-years' eyes shone. Every one of them wanted to start right now.
~~~
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