"Do you really expect to build a house for these two?" Kane asked, raising an eyebrow at Dumbledore and Professor Sprout.
"Well, I believe you have a certain... flair for the creative. So, can you do it?" Dumbledore inquired.
"It's not impossible," Kane mused. A plan was already forming. In the Eternal Realm, Mandrake spirits lived in rather haphazard holes carved out of giant crops.
Building a house like that was child's play. He just needed to grow a massive crop—a giant potato, perhaps. It wouldn't take much ti; he could treat it as a relaxing hobby between classes.
"But I'll need to do so prep work first," Kane said, turning on his heel and jogging back toward the castle.
Dumbledore and Professor Sprout watched him vanish in a blur. This boy... one mont he was the most sensible student in school, and the next, he was a total enigma.
Dumbledore then turned to the Weasley twins, who were still standing at rigid attention. "Gentlen, you may stand down."
In the Hogwarts Library, Kane pulled a copy of The Encyclopedia of Animals from the shelf. This was Step One.
Growing a "Giant Crop" required more than just music and good vibes; it required precise nutrition.
Since plants were famously tight-lipped about their needs, he needed a way to "read" them. In the Eternal Realm, the Premier Gardeneer Hat was designed for exactly this purpose.
The only slight drawback was the recipe. The main component for the hat was a bucket... specifically, a "poop bucket."
So, his current mission was to scour the library for an animal whose droppings were completely odorless—or better yet, fragrantly pleasant.
Hermione, having just finished two gas of wizard chess in the common room, arrived at the library thinking she was the hardest-working student in the castle. Then she saw Kane, already hunched over a to with a look of intense concentration.
I give up, she thought, sitting across from him with a look of defeated respect. She pulled out a book on charms, determined to match his pace, only to be imdiately interrupted.
"Hermione, do you know of any animal whose... uh, droppings don't stink? Maybe even sll like flowers?"
She blinked. The Encyclopedia of Animals covers habitats, diets, and temperants, but authors rarely feel the need to describe the olfactory profile of a creature's waste. That would make for a very difficult job for very little pay.
"No sll at all?" Hermione murmured, thinking. "Wait, Hagrid once ntioned that unicorn droppings have a faint scent like strawberries.
You might check with him; he sotis uses them to fertilize the orchards near his hut."
"Perfect! Thanks!" Kane bolted, leaving his half-read book on the table.
Being a good citizen, Hermione huffed and returned Kane's book to the shelf. When she sat back down, she realized so other good citizen had already returned her own book to the shelf while she was away.
Honestly...
Over at Hagrid's hut, the giant was busy carding unicorn hair when he saw Kane poking around his compost bin.
Is he... planning to eat that? Hagrid wondered. This was the third student this term to eye the bin, but Kane was a second-year. Didn't they teach this in Care of Magical Creatures? Oh, wait—that was a third-year elective.
As Hagrid was lost in thought, Kane pushed the door open, carefully balancing a bucket of "compost."
"Hagrid, this—"
"Oh, it's fine! Take it if you want!" Hagrid blurted out, trying to suppress the terrifying thought that his friend was about to have a very strange snack.
"Thanks!"
As Kane left, Hagrid sat back down, his hands trembling. Terrible... just terrible. He had spent his life studying magical creatures; he knew better. What if Kane thought the unicorn droppings were actually strawberry jam?
He couldn't just let his friend eat... that. Even if it was embarrassing, he had to stop him!
Hagrid dropped the unicorn hair and burst out of his hut.
He skidded to a halt. Kane hadn't eaten it. Instead, he had added so strange roots to the bucket and attached a monocle to the rim.
Then, with total nonchalance, he hoisted the "compost bucket" onto his head.
Hiss...
Hagrid slowly backed into his hut and shut the door. Well, he thought, students like to be unique. Kane had given his cow-horn hat to that first-year girl; maybe he just wanted a new look.
A fashion eccentric was much better than a pica sufferer.
Back in the greenhouse, Kane—now sporting the Premier Gardener Hat—pressed a small button on the side. Instantly, a stream of data flooded the lens of his monocle.
The hat was a miracle of agricultural engineering. Not only did it grant the wearer innate farming wisdom, but it also allowed them to "see" a plant's status.
It showed if they were unhappy, thirsty, hungry for fertilizer, or if weeds were encroaching on their territory.
Kane quickly found two potato seeds, used his automated tiller to prep two small plots, and planted them. Rain, sunlight, music, and fertilizer—all delivered in one smooth motion.
All that was left was to wait for the giant potatoes to grow so he could carve out hos for the two Mandrake spirits, who were currently "floating" nearby.
Suddenly, a sound like a collective intake of air nearly turned the greenhouse into a vacuum.
Kane looked back. A crowd of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had arrived for their afternoon lesson. They were staring at him with looks of absolute, unadulterated bewildernt.
Kane is officially gone, the consensus seed to be. The cow horns weren't enough. Now...
He's wearing a bucket of strawberry jam on his head!
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