As he pushed open the greenhouse door, Sean could feel his heart hamring in his chest.
What if Professor Sprout isn't here? What if she's already finished processing the venomous snake fangs? What if…
The anxious thoughts vanished the mont he saw the stout, hardworking professor inside.
"Professor Sprout," he called out, jogging toward her, his voice betraying his relief.
"Welco, Mr. Green," she greeted him warmly. "Co with . We have so special materials to handle today."
Sean's jog turned into a near-sprint, as if he were afraid she might disappear if he hesitated for even a second. The kindly witch just chuckled and gently pushed a hanging vine out of his path.
She led him briskly through the familiar Bouncing Bulb section.
"Our dear Bouncing Bulbs are almost ready," she said, her voice full of the joy of a coming harvest as she gently squeezed one of the pods. "When the pink pods get just a little bigger, the shimring beans inside will start to leap out. We have to harvest them before that happens, otherwise the entire greenhouse will be filled with pod-flowers."
"Would you like to help with the harvest when the ti cos, Mr. Green?"
Sean gave a firm, enthusiastic "Mm-hmm!" and the two of them, one large and one small, arrived at the old oak workbench. On it was a pile of snake fangs of various shapes and sizes.
"Every year around this ti, I help process so of the extra Potion ingredients," Professor Sprout explained. "Ah, look at these fangs. Sturdy things. Do you know how to tell them apart, Mr. Green?"
With a wave of her wand, several fangs floated into the air in front of him. They were sharp and gleaming, and upon closer inspection, Sean could see subtle differences between them.
"The venomous fangs have small grooves inside them," he said after a mont of careful observation.
"Absolutely correct," Professor Sprout said, looking pleasantly surprised. "A keen eye."
She then sent a mortar and pestle flying into his hands. "Now, let's try grinding them, Mr. Green."
Sean didn't hesitate. Grinding wasn't a difficult task, especially since the pestle in his hand seed to be imbued with so kind of magic—a Crushing Charm, he suspected—that made the work go much faster.
As Sean worked, Professor Sprout watched him for a mont with a smile, then waved her own wand. Ten other mortars and pestles on the bench began to work on their own.
"For a Wit-Sharpening Potion, we would need to grind them much finer than this," she instructed. "But for a Boil-Cure Potion, this consistency is just about right."
By the ti she finished speaking, Sean had already completed processing ten portions of the material. That wasn't too slow, he thought, right before he noticed the ten other mortars working in perfect, magical unison.
Right. Wizards are just on another level entirely.
He pushed the thought aside and focused on morizing the texture of the ground fangs, trying to discern any difference between the venomous and non-venomous powders. He couldn't find any.
"Oh, Mr. Green," Professor Sprout chuckled, her hat askew with mirth as she watched him lean so close his nose was nearly touching the powder. With another flick of her wand, the powders were funnelled into different coloured glass phials—pale red for the venomous, and clear for the non-venomous.
Understanding dawned on Sean's face.
"The angle of the sunflowers tells it's ti for you to go, Mr. Green," Professor Sprout said, wiggling her fingers in a little wave.
Sean realized with a start that an hour and a half had passed. He quickly said his goodbyes, pausing only to ask, "Professor, may I co back this afternoon?"
"Of course. The greenhouses always welco any child who loves nature."
With that, Sean pushed open the greenhouse door and hurried on his way.
This afternoon, the Ravenclaws had their first Transfiguration class with the Gryffindors. He had no desire to be turned into a pocket watch or a map, so he quickened his pace. On the way, he checked his Panel.
[Herbology Knowledge: Locked (59/90)]
Note: Unlocking Apprentice-level Herbology Knowledge will grant an Apprentice-level Title in the field of Herbology.
Just as I thought. Processing snake fangs doesn't count as Herbology. He scanned the rest of his stats.
[Levitation Charm: Apprentice (4/300)]
[Scouring Charm: Apprentice (70/300)]
[Wand-Lighting Charm: Novice (19/900)]
His Wand-Lighting Charm had reached the Novice level. He lit his wand, and the glow was noticeably brighter than it had been at the Apprentice level. The casting was faster, too, and felt more effortless. To produce the brilliant sphere of light he had managed in class, however, he would need to channel the right emotions, and even then, success wasn't guaranteed.
The Transfiguration classroom was on the second floor, not far from Professor McGonagall's office. The first thing Sean noticed upon entering was the teacher's desk, a heavy, dark wood piece that, along with the high-backed chair behind it, looked like a genuine Plantagenet-era antique.
Hogwarts really is wealthy, he thought.
He then spotted Michael, who was sitting next to a dark-haired girl and looking utterly conflicted, clearly torn between staying put and moving to sit with Sean.
Sean just shook his head and took a seat next to Hermione. As usual, the space beside her was empty, even at the desks designed for two. On the desk was a small cage containing a squeaking rat.
"Sean, have you seen the tabby cat on the desk?" Hermione whispered. "Isn't she lovely?"
Sean looked up. A silver tabby with spectacle-like markings around her eyes was sitting primly on the professor's desk, watching the students file in. "Yes," he agreed.
Just then, the classroom door creaked open with a loud groan. Harry and Ron burst in, looking flustered and out of breath. They were three minutes late.
Hermione shot a disapproving look over her shoulder, then pursed her lips and shook her head.
"Whew, made it," Ron panted. "Imagine if we'd been late. McGonagall would've had our heads."
Seeing the two of them still standing by the door, Sean knew there was no escape.
In a single, fluid movent, the tabby cat leaped from the desk, transforming in mid-air into a tall, severe-looking witch in erald-green robes. She stood there, her head tilted, staring down at Ron.
Ron's eyes widened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. His expression was a perfect portrait of a boy thinking, Harry, are we going to survive this?
"That was bloody brilliant," Ron managed to say, in a weak attempt to salvage the situation.
"Thank you for that assessnt, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, her voice dangerously calm. "Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocket watch. That way, one of you might be on ti."
"We were lost," Harry mumbled.
"Then perhaps a map? I trust you don't need a map to find your seats?"
A ripple of quiet laughter went through the classroom.
"Two points from Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall added crisply.
Sean saw Hermione give Harry and Ron another withering glance.
Gryffindors, Sean thought, true to form.
"Transfiguration is so of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began, her voice sharp and clear. "Anyone ssing around in my class will leave and not co back. You have been warned."
She then waved her wand, and the desk in front of her transford into a pig, which trotted around the classroom before she turned it back into a desk.
The students' eyes lit up with wonder, all of them suddenly desperate to begin.
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