Everything was starting to come together.
Sheen glanced at his timetable again.
Ravenclaw First Year:
Monday Morning:
- Potions, Potions
Monday Afternoon:
- History of Magic
Note: First-year classes run from Monday to Friday, 9:00 AM to 12:00 PM, and 2:00 PM to 3:30 PM.
Hogwarts' first-year schedule was undeniably light, with no classes after 3:30 PM. This meant young witches and wizards needed to rely heavily on their self-study skills.
After devouring half a roast chicken at the Great Hall's long table, Sheen's cheeks were puffed out as he mulled over his plan. Herbology wasn't like Potions. Sure, there were some dangerous plants, but Sheen could steer clear of those and focus on safe magical plants to build his skills—like dittany or daisies.
All he needed was to track down Professor Sprout and convince her to let him into the greenhouse. Maybe he could offer to help out with odd jobs.
Just then, a group of older Hufflepuff students passed by, their conversation catching Sheen's ear.
"Hurry up! Professor Sprout's prepping for the first-years' lesson today, and we've got work to do," one said.
"It's the same every year. I don't mind helping with the plants, but I just hope we don't run into those jagged three-leafed ones again. You know what those are, right?" another chimed in.
"What? You mean you sneezed for three weeks straight and didn't even bother to look up the plant?" a third voice teased.
"I thought you lot were just bad-mouthing me behind my back!"
"Oh, we were definitely talking about you, but nobody's got the stamina to curse you for three whole weeks—unlike your love life, which can't last three weeks either."
"Oi! Can you stop bringing that up?"
"If you hadn't put itching powder in our hats and—"
"Alright, alright, my bad!" the culprit laughed.
Sheen, seizing the moment, popped up from the table. "The jagged three-leafed plant is probably sneezewort. It's toxic, used in Confusing Concoctions and Befuddlement Draughts. The dried leaves can be ground into sneezing powder. If you want to avoid it, stay at least six feet away—its pollen spreads on the wind."
His young but confident voice made the three Hufflepuffs stop in their tracks.
"Well, aren't you a clever little wizard? Definitely a Ravenclaw first-year," said the one with fluffy brown hair, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But you really shouldn't have told Bruce the truth. He deserves to keep sneezing."
"Hey, at least don't say that to my face!" Bruce, the short-haired one, groaned.
"If you hadn't put itching powder in our hats and—" the slightly chubby wizard started again.
"Can we drop it already? I'm begging you!" Bruce cut in, though his face showed no real remorse. If Sheen wasn't mistaken, there was even a hint of smugness.
"Thanks for the tip, kid. Three weeks of sneezing was no picnic. Next time we meet, I owe you some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," Bruce said as they turned to leave.
But Sheen wasn't done. "I've always wanted to learn more about magical plants. Could I come with you to help Professor Sprout? I've memorized every plant in the first-year textbook. I might be useful."
He rattled off his pitch quickly, then waited.
Truth be told, even if these Hufflepuff seniors refused, Sheen would find his own way to the greenhouse after hearing their conversation.
"What?" The brown-haired wizard looked uncertain.
"You memorized that brick of a textbook?" Bruce's eyes widened.
"Bruce, Professor Sprout never said we could bring anyone along!" the brown-haired one, Leon, protested.
"Relax, Leon. Greenhouse One doesn't have any dangerous plants, remember? Plus, an extra pair of hands will speed things up. I don't want to miss Divination this afternoon—that tarot card tea party's calling my name," Bruce said, eyeing Sheen with interest. "Sorry, kid, but I've got to ask a few questions to make sure you're not one of those first-years who'll turn the greenhouse into a disaster."
He gave an apologetic smile. "What's the nickname for the Alihotsy tree?"
"Hyena tree," Sheen answered without hesitation.
"The shape of dittany leaves?"
"Oval, oblong, or lance-shaped."
"What does mistletoe produce?"
"Mistletoe berries. They're white, great for common antidotes and Forgetfulness Potions."
Bruce grabbed Sheen's hand, his face deadly serious. "You're coming with us."
Leon and Pister, the other two, looked just as shocked.
"I'm Bruce. This is Leon and Pister," he introduced.
"Sheen Greene."
---
And just like that, Sheen earned his ticket to Greenhouse One. Their task was to help Professor Sprout with the plants—pulling weeds, harvesting mature herbs, and dealing with some pesky tendrils creeping over from Greenhouse Three.
"Those dangerous plants always seem to have a thing for Greenhouse One," Bruce said with a shrug, then added seriously, "It's rare, but if you spot any, tell Professor Sprout right away."
Sheen nodded, committing the advice to memory.
Under the warm Scottish sunlight, Sheen followed the trio out of the castle to the three domed greenhouses, their curved roofs glinting with glass skylights.
"One last thing," Bruce said as they approached. "Greenhouse One's the closest. If you wander into the wrong one, just pray Professor Sprout's around. Kidding—run fast, and you'll be fine."
Bruce shared plenty of tips along the way. He might've seemed a bit unreliable at first, but when it came to the important stuff, he was sharp. Leon and Pister nodded along, clearly trusting his lead.
They pushed open the creaky wooden door of Greenhouse One, and a wave of humid, stifling air hit them. Pister's glasses fogged up instantly.
Inside was a dazzling jungle of green. There were massive, knobby pumpkin-like plants, sneezewort with only its noisy leaves poking out of pots, and wooden racks along the walls tangled with vines. The racks held all sorts of odd pots, some plants puffing out smoke, others with leaves pulsing like heartbeats, and a few bearing glowing, jewel-like fruits.
A narrow path wound through the chaos, and in the middle stood a short witch with flowing gray hair—Professor Sprout.