Chapter 343: The Private Allotment
The greenhouse was warm and humid, a stark contrast to the biting winter air outside.
A vibrant variety of magical flora flourished here. As Sean walked toward the far-right corner of Greenhouse One, he spotted Justin and Neville guiding Hermione through the basics of handling simple plants. They were weaving through a forest of hanging lilies, the massive blossoms hovering overhead like living umbrellas.
"If the leaves are heart-shaped and rounded, covered in fine downy hair on both sides with serrated edges... that's Alchemilla," Justin explained, gesturing to a green plant. "It's an essential component for many beautifying draughts."
Hermione nodded, her quill scratching across her parchment.
Beside her, Neville didn't say much, only offering technical corrections as they worked. "You have to choose the ones where the down is roughly the same length as the serrations..."
Under their tutelage, Hermione's progress was remarkably swift.
Professor Sprout watched the scene with a beaming smile before turning her gaze to Sean as he approached. She had seen this exact dynamic a year ago, yet she never grew tired of it. Greenhouses were places of constant growth and renewal, after all.
Professor Sprout was arguably the most respected and beloved teacher at Hogwarts. Her greenhouses were always open to any student who truly loved nature.
Take Neville and Justin, for example—their dedication was so well-known that they held their own keys to Greenhouse One. Then there was Sean, who had been granted his own "private allotment"—a small, fenced-off corner at the far end of the structure.
Sean stepped into his little garden, standing amidst a cluster of vivid, fragrant flowers. These were his lavender plants; once processed, they would form the base for powerful sleeping draughts. Surrounding them were plots of nettles, mistletoe, narcissus, and—more recently—aconite. These herbs were the raw materials for Sean's personal stock of basic antidotes, Cure for Boils, and Swelling Solutions.
As he entered his designated work area, a notebook descended from a suspended wooden rack, coming to rest at eye level. It was Sean's Practical Herbology Journal.
Due to the deep link between Herbology and Potions, Sean didn't just have to learn how to identify, grow, and preserve plants; he had to master the specific handling techniques required for alchemy and learn to discern the precise maturity of every leaf and root.
It was tedious, time-consuming labor, but Sean had pursued it tirelessly for over a year. The result was a set of notes that the Hufflepuffs now revered as a holy text.
In terms of sheer academic scope, the journal couldn't compete with the encyclopedias in the Hogwarts library. It was easily outclassed by specialized tomes like The Encyclopedia of Flesh-Eating Trees or A Compendium of Poisonous Fungi.
Yet, nearly every Hufflepuff owned a copied set. Why? Because Sean's notes were written from the perspective of the "common wizard." They were a scientific, step-by-step guide for someone with zero innate talent. While a textbook might give a brief overview of Dittany, Sean's notes dedicated seventeen pages to the plant's nuances. Over the last year, the journal had grown from a hundred pages to over seven hundred.
Perhaps the secret lay in the inscription on the title page:
[Dedicated to every wizard who loves nature. Visiting the greenhouse is not a requirement, nor is talent. The moment you are willing to pick up the spade, Herbology truly begins.]
In Sean's original draft, the line was even more blunt:
[Herbology begins when you realize you have no talent, yet pick up the spade anyway.]
Professor Sprout often caught a glimpse of that line while Sean was working. Every time she saw it, her warm smile would brighten just a little more.
Greenhouse One was a place where time seemed to stand still.
Sean tended to his allotment, ensuring every plant was vibrant and healthy. As he worked, his proficiency continued to climb:
[Alert: You have processed a sprig of Aconite at an Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[Alert: You have processed a sprig of Aconite at an Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
Title: Herbology Scholar
Herbology Cognition: Adept (25,700 / 30,000)
Eventually, exhaustion forced Sean to stop. Although he could use charms for pest control and watering, the actual identification and precision-cutting had to be done by hand to ensure alchemical purity. For a twelve-year-old, his mental energy was limited.
"Come along, children! Time for a break and some honey-lemon water!"
Professor Sprout called out, looking thoroughly satisfied. The stout witch flicked her wand, and suddenly everyone was holding a Cauldron Cake, a tin of sweets, and a steaming mug of honey-lemon water.
"My dear little sprout," Sprout said, leading Sean away from the others. "Your mother mentioned to me that you've finally completed your Animagus transformation?"
As they stepped outside for a private chat, the Hufflepuff "Trio of Chaos"—Bruce, Leon, and Pister—entered the greenhouse to rest. They had just finished harvesting Bubotuber pus; they were covered in thick, yellowish-green slime and reeked of industrial petrol.
"Bruce!" Leon shouted, seeing Bruce eyeing the snack table with a predatory glint. "Don't you dare!"
"Get away from mine!" Pister added, looking panicked. They all knew Bruce's habit of "confiscating" food for himself, leaving nothing for his friends.
"I'll give you lot mine next time, I promise!" Bruce shouted, already lunging for the table.
At the edge of the table, Hermione watched the three Hufflepuff seniors in astonishment.
"Don't mind them," Justin said with a helpless grin. "This happens at least twice a month."
"Bruce is actually quite normal the rest of the time..." Harry added.
"Mmph—yeah," Ron grunted, his mouth full of sweets. "As long as he isn't around other Hufflepuffs or Sean."
"Like hell! Your 'next time' is already pre-paid until graduation!" Leon roared. He had fallen for that line too many times.
"Very well, then! Draw your wands!" Bruce challenged, though he was still chewing. "Only the victor is worthy of the Professor's bounty!"
Before he could finish his sentence, a spell streaked toward him. Pister had moved with practiced speed.
"Tarantallegra!"
Instantly, Bruce's legs began to twitch and jerk uncontrollably. He was forced into a frantic, involuntary tap-dance.
"Pister! You traitor! You learned how to sneak-attack!"
Amidst the shouting and spell-casting, Hermione stood frozen, not knowing how to react. She had prepared herself for many scenarios—that the upper-years might be arrogant, or that their research was a guarded secret.
But she never expected to see seventeen-year-old wizards duelling in a greenhouse over a Cauldron Cake. Especially when there was enough food in the Great Hall to feed an army.
"They'll be fine in a minute," Justin assured her. He surreptitiously tucked Sean's portion of food behind a large flowerpot to keep it safe.
In Justin's experience, whenever there wasn't a real crisis to handle, Bruce was more than happy to manufacture a small one.
[End of Chapter 343]
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