In the Headmaster's office, Lucien and Dumbledore sipped tea in silence.
They'd talked too much earlier, tossing around spells left and right, and now both were a bit worn out.
Lucien waved his wand, transforming a small trowel back to its original form before slipping it into his pocket.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusent. "Lucien, I'm curious—why do you carry a trowel around?"
"I'm into growing plants," Lucien replied. "Having tools like this makes things easier."
Dumbledore stroked his beard, chuckling. "That's a great hobby. A bit of relaxation does wonders."
"Oh, what plants do you grow?" he added.
"Cabbages," Lucien said.
The kind that might bite, he added silently in his head.
The answer caught Dumbledore off guard. He'd expected a young wizard like Lucien to be into flowers or herbs, not sothing as practical as cabbages.
"Ha, Lucien, you'd fit right in with the Hufflepuffs," Dumbledore said with a grin.
They chatted a bit longer before Lucien bid Dumbledore farewell and left.
Once he was gone, Dumbledore pulled back the curtain, revealing the portraits of past headmasters.
After their earlier discussion, the portraits had cald down, no longer speaking over each other.
"Albus, Hogwarts' safety is paramount, and so is every student's," said Sharon Winterian, a striking woman with silver-frad glasses, a forr Ravenclaw headmistress. Her tone was serious as she fixed Dumbledore with a stern look. "Lucien's still a child. Don't drag him into danger too soon. Let him focus on his studies."
She'd only spoken to Lucien once but was deeply impressed, convinced he was the epito of a Ravenclaw.
Dumbledore shook his head, recounting Lucien's talents and their recent discussion. "That boy," he concluded, "can't be judged by ordinary standards."
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[101kan, fully handwritten, error-free site]
Ti flew by.
Two weeks later, Lucien stood in Hagrid's vegetable patch, gazing at thirty fully mature Chinese Chomping Cabbages with a satisfied smile.
Under his careful tending, with plenty of fertilizer and supplentary potions, every seedling had thrived.
Lucien crouched down, inspecting the cabbages closely. Their yellow-red leaves wrapped around round heads, with a wide, toothy maw in the center, lined with glossy black fangs.
How on earth did Hagrid ever think to cook these things?
Lucien gave one a pat. Thanks to his "Diligent Gardener" title, which granted an affinity with magical plants, they didn't see him as a threat. No urge to chomp on human flesh here.
The cabbages just opened and closed their mouths, almost like they were breathing.
"System, I'm ready to pay off the 'Diligent Gardener' loan," Lucien said.
[Ding! 'Diligent Gardener' title (monthly loan) has been repaid.]
[Wishing the host a fulfilling gardening life! ┌|≧∇≦|┘]
Ten cabbages vanished instantly, claid by the system.
With twenty left, Lucien pulled out a green gourd—a special tool for planting and storing both magical and mundane plants. He'd prepared it ages ago but hadn't transplanted the cabbages to ensure their growth. Now that the loan was settled, he could store them.
Magical plants were easy to preserve. Fully mature, they could stay active for ages with the right conditions.
Gotta test their bite strength soti, Lucien thought. They're supposed to snap bones like twigs. Those teeth look like they an business.
He stood, waving his wand to clean the dirt off his shoes and robes, then glanced at the garden.
Two-thirds of it was packed with giant pumpkins—a hybrid of magical and mundane varieties. They grew fast, got huge, and tasted great.
Why so many? Not because Hagrid loved them (though he probably did).
Halloween was coming.
And what's Halloween without pumpkins?
Yeah, Halloween's gonna be interesting, Lucien mused. Quirrell's up to sothing with that troll. Should be a scare, but nothing too serious. Harry, Ron, and Hermione can handle it.
Harry and Ron had been doing well in their studies lately, especially Ron, who'd made strides in theory and Transfiguration. A monthly exam was coming up to test their progress. If they passed, Lucien might start them on basic alchemical machinery.
Lost in thought, Lucien left the garden.
"Oi, Lucien! How're those Chomping Cabbages doin'?" Hagrid's booming voice rang out, his grin half-hidden behind his bushy beard.
"They're healthy and fully grown. I've stored them," Lucien replied. "I turned over the soil and added fertilizer, so the plot's ready for whatever you want to plant next."
"Bliy, that's right kind of ya!" Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together, his smile widening. "Co on, join us for dinner. Harry and the others'll be by soon."
Lucien nodded, then, almost as an afterthought, asked, "Hagrid, any tips on caring for newborn Acromantulas?"
He'd recently had so baby Acromantulas hatch from his colony and figured Hagrid, with his expertise, would know how to handle them.
After all, the half-giant had raised Aragog from a hatchling, through all the ssy bits.
Hagrid didn't question why a young wizard would ask about such creatures. "Best to start with soft foods, like breadcrumbs," he said, his voice rumbling. "Keep the temperature steady at… oh, and once they're past infancy, add so fish or shrimp to their diet. Helps delay their blindness."
Lucien nodded eagerly, impressed. Hagrid might seem rough around the edges, but when it ca to magical creatures, he was ticulous and could talk for hours.
"Thanks, Hagrid. That's really helpful," Lucien said.
Hagrid waved it off. "No need for thanks among friends. Just stuff I figured out the hard way. Had an old pal, Aragog, an Acromantula. Didn't care for him right back then, so he went blind too soon."
He brightened. "But I visited him recently, and he's got a bit of his sight back! A miracle, that is. Maybe it's 'cause he never hurt nobody."
Lucien's expression turned odd, though Hagrid, too tall to notice, didn't see it.
A miracle? Lucien thought. Sure, eting was probably Aragog's good fortune.
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