"Professor Sprout."
Bruce, who had been entirely at ease the whole walk over, went noticeably stiff the moment they reached her.
"Oh — Mr. Dickinson! Mr. Howard! Mr. Jefferson! How lovely of you to come and help." Professor Sprout wore a hat of spectacular patchwork but it almost felt like a normal hat wouldn't suit her. She smiled at them, and it felt as though the sun itself was smiling back at them. She turned to Sheen.
"And a new seedling! How wonderful to meet you, dear. What's your name, young man?"
She set down the large pair of shears she'd been using on the Bubotuber stems, bent forward slightly, and looked at him properly. She didn't ask what he was doing there. She simply pulled off her dragon-hide gloves — thoroughly caked in soil — with the same straightforward warmth as the elderly donor who used to visit the orphanage with cheques.
The money had never made it to the children, of course. But that had never stopped Sheen from admiring the woman herself.
"Sheen Green."
He found himself going slightly shy in the presence of such sweet energy. He tucked his hands behind his back.
"Mr. Green! Delightful. Mr. Dickinson, would you take him along and deal with the mature plants?" she gave Sheen's cheek a brief, gentle squeeze, Sheen smiled, how could anyone possibly say anything bad to a sweet old grandma like her? She let go of him quickly though, getting started with the responsibilities as she organised the afternoon— "Mr Howard? The weeds are all yours. And mr. Jefferson, I'd like you to sort the Dictamnus by growth stage — it'll be the first plant our seedlings meet tomorrow, so let's have it looking its best."
"Yes, Professor." Bruce rolled up his sleeves and answered quietly. Leon said no problem. Piste — slightly more tongue-tied than even Bruce — went red and nodded with great conviction.
Professor Sprout clearly held a particular place in the hearts of her Hufflepuffs, Sheen noted.
"I'll tell you, you'd be hard-pressed to find a more caring professor in the whole school," Bruce said, as they moved off toward the south end of the greenhouse. His voice had something fond in it. "Every student at Hogwarts is like her own child. She's been voted most popular professor several years running." He paused. "Anyway — the mature plants await. Looks like a proper job!"
Sheen nodded. The two of them began threading their way between the great knobbled pumpkin-like specimens, amid which sat dozens of terracotta pots trailing the purple-red petals of Dictamnus.
"We're collecting the mature ones first. Do you know how to tell a mature Dictamnus from one that isn't ready?"
Bruce handed him a small pair of scissors while trimming one himself.
Sheen shook his head. The textbook hadn't covered that.
"This is exactly the sort of thing books leave out. I'll show you."
Bruce leaned toward one of the pots and sniffed, then snipped the stem with a clean click.
"Dictamnus has a faint goat-like smell — a bit like lanolin. When it's mature, that smell gets noticeably stronger. Have a try."
Sheen leaned in. The difference was immediately apparent — the ones Bruce was harvesting had a deeper, richer scent, like wool left in the sun.
Bruce smiled.
"Mature Dictamnus improves the success rate of Invigoration Draughts considerably. Immature specimens are more likely to cause the whole thing to fail. And that—" he clipped another stem, "—is the magic of Herbology."
It was the door Sheen had been looking for. He nodded once, picked up his scissors, and joined the harvest without another word.
The two of them worked through the dense greenery like creatures following a scent — leaning in here, tilting a pot there, noses doing most of the navigating. Sheen's ability to distinguish the mature specimens improved with each one he checked.
Bruce, being tall and broadly built, moved through the plants with the stolid determination of a badger. Sheen, lighter and more precise in his movements, slipped between the pots like a cat through long grass.
"That should do it. Now for the preparation."
Bruce hefted the bag and beckoned. From a rack near the entrance — among trowels and hoes and various implements — he produced two small silver knives and something that looked like a flat-bottomed strainer.
"Cutting Dictamnus has a few tricks to it. The main principle is the three-section method. Watch."
He talked as he worked, cutting each plant into three parts and handling each section differently — the further toward the root end, the more finely it was cut, the last portion pressed and worked through the strainer-like tool.
"The active compound isn't distributed evenly through the plant, so different parts need different treatment. Want to try?"
Sheen took the tools.
[ You have processed one Dictamnus plant to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1. ]
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. He reached for the next one.
[ Proficiency +1. ]
[ Proficiency +1. ]
[ Proficiency +1. ]
The notifications kept coming. His hands moved faster and faster, the motion becoming cleaner with each repetition.
"He seems," Bruce said, scratching his head, "to be enjoying this a great deal."
"Sheen. Sheen — dried nettles next. Come on."
He stopped the cutting, leading Sheen to a patch of nettles with an expression that had moved past bewilderment into something like respect. He had entirely given up questioning the first-year's enthusiasm.
"Dried nettles — common enough plant, but once prepared it becomes a viable ingredient for several draughts. The preparation process is..."
Sheen absorbed it like dry earth taking in rain.
[ You have processed one nettle plant to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1. ]
[ Proficiency +1. ]
Time passed like sand through cupped hands.
"Gentlemen." Professor Sprout's voice broke through the quiet. "Beautifully done, all of you — the seedlings will have you to thank tomorrow."
Sheen set down the last nettle. It dripped faintly blue at the cut end — the result of the soaking solution it had been treated with.
He opened his status panel while Professor Sprout continued speaking.
[ Herbological Knowledge: Locked (27/90) ]
[ Note: Herbological Knowledge proficiency encompasses the full range of skills involved in plant identification and preparation. ]
Ninety points to unlock. He hadn't seen a threshold that high before — roughly the equivalent of three apprentice-level skills combined into one.
"Mr. Dickinson and Mr. Green — you've cleared all the mature specimens the seedlings might have found confusing. Mr. Howard — not a weed left standing. And Mr. Jefferson—" Professor Sprout's expression became particularly warm— "your Dictamnus sorting was precise to an exceptional standard."
Her smile moved around the group like firelight.
"Now then — come here, all of you. Hazelnut chocolate."
Bruce made a sound that was half exclamation and half the effort of suppressing it. Leon shook his head with quiet fondness. Piste smiled his broad, uncomplicated smile, still visibly glowing from the praise.
They filed along the narrow path toward the entrance. The greenhouse looked considerably tidier than it had an hour ago — most of the mature specimens dealt with by Bruce, a smaller portion by Sheen. The weeds were gone. The Dictamnus stood arranged by growth stage in the centre display, neat as a reference chart.
When Sheen reached Professor Sprout, he forcibly redirected his attention from the hazelnut chocolate — which looked, by any honest assessment, extremely good.
"Professor Sprout—" He was slightly awkward about it his feet dragging under him and making intricate but forever hidden patterns on the floor of the green house. "Could I come again please?"
(End of Chapter)