The air inside the greenhouse shimmered with heat, distorting the view like a mirage. It felt as if the entire structure had been set inside a giant steamer—thick, humid, and heavy. Wisps of steam curled lazily above the soil, and the glass panes fogged at the corners. For most people, even most wizards, this would have been unbearable without magical protection. But for Char, it was merely a little stuffy, like the air before a summer thunderstorm—uncomfortable, yes, but nothing he couldn't handle.
Thanks to his legendary vitality and resistance, Char could have stayed in the greenhouse all day, or even all week, without feeling worse for wear. In fact, he felt energized. As he glanced at the Marguerites he had planted, his eyes sparkled with delight—the reward light orbs above them were noticeably larger than before he'd turned up the heat.
A grin spread across Char's face. With Professor Sprout absent for so long, the greenhouse had been mostly empty, a sleeping giant waiting to be awakened. Now, with a pouch full of Marguerite seeds and a heart full of determination, Char set about filling every bed and plot with the magical flowers. He imagined the day when the entire greenhouse would be a lush sea of Marguerites, each one brimming with magical rewards. The thought made him forget all about the heat.
He worked tirelessly, casting the soil-loosening charm again and again, carefully planting each seed as Professor Sprout had shown him. It was meticulous work—each Marguerite required attention to detail, the right depth, the right spacing, the right touch. But Char was used to this kind of patient, repetitive labor. In fact, he found joy in it. Each time a reward orb appeared, it felt like a small celebration, a secret only he could see.
Time slipped by unnoticed. Char's steady progress left neat rows of freshly planted Marguerites stretching deeper and deeper into the greenhouse. The moon rose high outside, casting a silvery glow over the valley, but Char was still at work, lost in the rhythm of planting and the quiet magic of the night.
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Professor Sprout hurried through the castle's winding corridors. Dumbledore's words still echoed in her mind:
"Harry Potter will be enrolling this year. I'm preparing a series of challenges to help train him. Pomona, I hope you'll design one of them?"
Professor Sprout had barely concealed her annoyance. "He called me back so urgently… just for this?" she muttered under her breath. "My Char is all alone at the manor! He must be starving."
Determined to make up for lost time, she made a quick stop at the Hufflepuff kitchens, where the house-elves gladly packed up several delicious, nourishing meals. As Head of Hufflepuff, she was entitled to a few special privileges, and she intended to use them for Char's benefit.
"That child's had a hard enough life. Tonight, he'll eat like a king," she promised herself as she hurried away from Hogwarts, food box in hand.
Back in the headmaster's office, Dumbledore watched through the enchanted portraits, a wistful smile on his lips.
"That boy, Char Sprout, truly brings Pomona joy," he mused aloud. He was genuinely pleased that the Sprout family had found a new heir, though he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He'd heard about Char's visit to Ollivander's, about his lackluster magical talent. Dumbledore had briefly considered pairing Char with Harry Potter, but now he thought better of it.
"Let the boy have a peaceful, happy school life," he decided. "Not every child needs to be a hero."
With that, Dumbledore turned his attention back to his plans for Harry, leaving thoughts of Char behind.
By the time Professor Sprout returned to the manor, the moon was high and the valley bathed in gentle silver light.
"Char, I'm back!" she called, stepping inside with the food box. "You must be hungry—I brought you some of the best meals from the Hufflepuff kitchen. I'm not exaggerating, Hufflepuff food is the best in the wizarding world!"
But the manor was quiet and empty, though the lights were on. A flicker of worry crossed her face.
"Is he still in the greenhouse?" she wondered, her heart pounding.
She hurried across the garden, clutching the food box. As she neared the greenhouse, a wave of heat washed over her, even through the closed door. Her eyes widened in alarm.
"How hot is it in there? Char hasn't learned proper heat-protection spells yet! He could faint—or worse!"
Panic rising, Professor Sprout flung open the door.
"Char!" she cried, bracing herself for the worst.
But instead of finding her nephew collapsed, she saw him kneeling by a flower bed, calmly planting another Marguerite. He looked up, surprised by her entrance.
"Auntie? You look pale—are you alright?"
Professor Sprout's relief was so great, it came out as a roar.
"Char! Who told you to turn the temperature up so high? Do you know how frightened I was? You are my only family! If anything happened to you, how could I ever face your parents?"
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she rushed over, checking him from head to toe. Char, suddenly realizing how worried she'd been, bowed his head apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Auntie. I didn't mean to worry you."
Professor Sprout quickly cast several cooling and protection charms around him, ensuring the heat couldn't harm him. Only after she was absolutely certain he was safe did she finally relax, letting out a shaky breath.
"Promise me, Char. Don't scare me like that again."
Char nodded earnestly.
"I promise. Next time, I'll tell you before I turn the heat up. But really, Auntie, I'm fine. My body's different—I hardly feel the heat at all. Actually… would you like to see how the Marguerites are doing?"
Professor Sprout blinked, caught off guard by his single-minded focus on the plants. But she couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. She followed his gaze to the rows of Marguerites he'd planted.
She knelt beside them, her eyes widening as she examined the seedlings. She could feel the magic radiating from the soil. With a flick of her wand, she cast a detection charm, and her mouth fell open in astonishment.
"These Marguerites… Char, their condition is perfect! If they continue like this, they'll mature into the most flawless Marguerites I've ever seen."
She didn't mention the other thing she'd realized: Marguerites of such quality were almost unheard of. Their magical properties might even mutate, allowing them to be used in brewing ancient, rare potions—potions that could enhance a wizard's magical talent.
She looked at Char, her eyes shining with pride and a little awe.
"You truly have a gift, Char. Not just for plants, but for caring for life itself."
Char beamed, his earlier guilt forgotten.
"I just did my best, Auntie. And with this greenhouse, I can do even more."
Professor Sprout hugged him tightly, her heart full.
"Let's go inside and eat, Char. You've earned a feast tonight. And tomorrow, we'll see what other wonders you can grow."
Together, they left the greenhouse, the air behind them thick with heat and hope. In the moonlit valley, the Sprout family's legacy was blooming anew—one perfect Marguerite at a time.