"Professor Sprout."
Before the professor, Bruce—who'd been all easygoing on the walk—suddenly clammed up.
"Oh, Bruce Dickinson,
Leon Howard,
Mr. Pist Jefferson—delighted you're here to lend a hand,"
Professor Sprout wore a battered old hat patched thick as thieves, her smile beaming like the sun at high noon,
"New sprout, eh? Thrilled to meet you, child. What's your name?"
She set down her hefty shears mid-chop on a bubotuber root, crouching to peer at Sean.
No grilling on how he'd shown up,
just tugging off her mud-caked dragon-hide gloves,
warm as that old dear who used to drop donations at the orphanage.
Mind you, not a Knut ever trickled down to the kids, but that didn't stop Sean admiring her pluck.
"Sean Greene."
Sean went all shy himself.
"Mr. Greene, splendid to have you pitching in. Mr. Dickinson, would you team up with him on the ripe plants?"
Professor Sprout gave Sean's cheek a gentle tweak, then doled out tasks with infectious cheer,
"Mr. Howard, the weeds are yours if you please,
and Mr. Jefferson, I'd like you sorting the dittany by growth stage—that'll be the first plant our new sprouts meet."
"Yes, Professor."
Sean caught Bruce rolling up his sleeves with a murmur, Leon tossing a quick "No bother,"
while Pist Jefferson—seemed even more starstruck than Bruce—flushed beet-red and bobbed his head like mad.
Professor Sprout must loom large in these Hufflepuff seniors' books,
Sean thought.
"I'd wager you won't find a kinder soul than Professor Sprout at Hogwarts—treats every student like her own brood,"
Bruce grinned, eyes sparkling as he spoke of her,
"She's snagged 'Most Popular Professor' for years running...
Right, enough gabbing—mature plants await. Looks like a right slog!"
Sean nodded, and the pair wove through the pumpkinish behemoths, where pots of dittany bloomed with violet petals.
"Harvest the ripe dittany here first. Er—d'you know how to spot the mature ones?"
Bruce handed Sean a pair of snips while clipping away.
Sean shook his head—the book was mum on that.
"That's the stuff you can't get from books. Here, lesson time."
Leaning into a pot, Bruce gave it a sniff, then snip—off it came.
"Dittany's got a faint muttony whiff; when it's ripe, it thickens up. Give it a go."
Sean leaned in—the stages did vary in scent,
and Bruce's pick carried that richer tang.
Bruce flashed a grin:
"Ripe dittany boosts your Pepperup Potion odds; green stuff? Could tank the whole brew.
That's—the magic of Herbology."
His words cracked open the very door Sean had been hunting.
Sean nodded, diving into the harvest with gusto.
The two nosed about like nifflers on a scent trail, sniffing here, eyeing there amid the gourd giants.
All the while, Sean's knack for spotting ripe dittany ticked upward.
Only difference: Bruce, tall and tanned, looked the part of a burrowing mole-rat.
Sean, with his striking looks and nimble grace? More a cat slipping through the underbrush.
"Nearly done—on to processing the dittany."
Bruce hoisted a sackful, waving Sean over.
"Mm."
Sean paused, watching Bruce fetch two silver paring knives and a colander-like gizmo from the tool heap by the greenhouse edge.
"Tricky bit, slicing dittany—boils down to the three-stage method. Watch close."
As he spoke, Bruce quartered a sprig, then diced each segment finer toward the tip—
the end bits near pulverized with that colander press.
"That's 'cause the essence pools uneven; gotta match your cuts.
Your turn?"
Sean nodded, taking the tools.
[You have fully processed a dittany plant to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
Sean's lips quirked up; he redoubled his efforts.
[You have fully processed a dittany plant to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You have fully processed a dittany plant to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You have fully processed a dittany plant to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
...
The system's chimes rang nonstop; Sean's hands blurred to shadows.
"He seems... a tad too into Herbology."
Bruce scratched his head, half-laughing.
"Sean, Sean—hear me out, time for dried nettles."
Bruce reined in Sean's chopping frenzy, admiration plain as he led him to a nettle patch.
He wasn't questioning the kid's zeal anymore.
"Dried nettles—common as they come, but prepped right? Potion staple. As for handling..."
...
Sean soaked it up like a sponge.
[You have fully processed a nettle to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You have fully processed a nettle to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
Time slipped away like fine sand.
"Gentlemen, a word—you've all done splendidly, a real boon for our new sprouts."
Professor Sprout's voice cut through; in Sean's hand, the last nettle dripped pale blue sap—freshly steeped, clearly.
Sean listened quiet, then cracked open the system,
[Herbology Knowledge: Not Unlocked (27/90)]
[Note: Herbology Knowledge proficiency covers the full chain—from identification to processing and beyond.]
Ninety to unlock—that was a first for Sean,
like stacking three apprentice thresholds end to end.
"Mr. Dickinson, you've and Mr. Greene's fine work cleared the confusing ripe herbs for our sprouts;
Mr. Howard, spot-on weeding;
Mr. Jefferson—oh, how to praise you? The dittany sorts were meticulous."
Professor Sprout's grin glowed like hearthfire, warming them all,
"Come here, dears—earn a hazelnut chocolate each."
Sean heard Bruce's muffled "Aha!"—hand clamped over his gob.
Leon just shook his head; Pist beamed, still basking in the glow.
They queued along the path—the greenhouse now tidy as a pin,
most harvest in Bruce's sack, the rest Sean's doing.
Weeds banished, even the central dittany pots lined neat by stage.
At the professor's side, Sean wrenched his gaze from that mouthwatering chocolate slab.
"Professor Sprout... could I help out other times too?"
He mumbled, fidgeting.