Read my new story (ilham20)
Hogwarts : Black family bloodline...
Hogwarts, my partner is Tom…
Hogwarts : He Starts by Deconstructing Avada Kedavra...
The greenhouse was toasty warm and buzzing with life. Plants of every kind were absolutely thriving.
As Sean walked toward the far-right corner, he spotted Neville and Justin giving Hermione a crash course in Greenhouse One. They were weaving between enormous umbrella-sized flowers that hung from the ceiling like chandeliers.
"Heart-shaped leaves, fuzzy on both sides, tiny serrated edges… yep, that's lacewing," Justin explained.
Hermione nodded, scribbling notes.
Neville didn't say much unless he was actually handling a plant. Then he'd mutter stuff like, "Pick the ones where the fuzz is about the same length as the teeth on the edge…"
With those two teaching her, Hermione was picking things up lightning-fast.
Professor Sprout watched the whole scene with the biggest grin on her face, then turned to Sean strolling up the path. She'd seen this exact picture a year ago and still never got tired of it.
Greenhouses: same magic, different kids, every single year.
Professor Sprout had to be the most loved teacher in the whole castle. Her greenhouses were always open to anyone who genuinely loved plants.
Neville and Justin were such regulars they had their own key to Greenhouse One.
And then there was Sean—he literally had his own mini-greenhouse tucked in the very back corner.
Right now he was standing inside the little fenced-off patch, surrounded by gorgeous, sweet-smelling lavender he'd specially treated so it could be used in sleeping potions.
He also had rows of nettles, mistletoe, daffodils… and lately, a healthy crop of aconite.
All ingredients he used for everyday potions: antidotes, scabies solution, swelling solution, deflating draughts, you name it.
The second he stepped into his work zone, a fat notebook floated down from a wooden stand overhead and opened right in front of him.
Sean's practical notes.
Because potions and herbology are basically married, he not only had to know how to grow, harvest, and store everything—he had to master every weird preparation method Snape demanded and be able to judge the exact condition of every single plant.
It was tedious, time-consuming work. Sean had been at it for over a year now and had filled an entire notebook that the Hufflepuffs basically treated as holy scripture.
It wasn't the most scholarly thing in the library, and it definitely wasn't as specialized as Flesh-Eating Trees of the World or One Thousand and One Poisonous Fungi.
But every single Hufflepuff had their own copy of Sean's notes.
Because it was written from the perspective of the slowest, clumsiest wizard imaginable and patiently explained exactly how someone with zero natural talent could still learn herbology.
It didn't try to impress anyone. It just spent seventeen pages on dittany alone.
It wasn't flashy. It was just updated constantly—starting at a hundred pages and now pushing seven hundred.
The cover page said (in Sean's handwriting):
To every wizard who loves nature. You don't have to be born talented, and you don't even have to come to the greenhouse. The moment you pick up a trowel, herbology begins.
The original draft in Sean's personal copy was a little more blunt:
Realizing you've got no talent but still picking up the trowel anyway—that's when herbology actually starts.
Every time Professor Sprout accidentally glimpsed that line while Sean was working, her smile got ten times brighter.
Time doesn't exist in Greenhouse One.
Sean tended his little patch until everything looked perfect. While he worked, little system prompts kept popping up:
[You processed an aconite to proficient standards. Proficiency +10]
[You processed an aconite to proficient standards. Proficiency +10]
Title: Herbologist
Herbology Knowledge: Proficient (25,700/30,000)
Eventually even Sean got tired. Sure, he could wave his wand and banish pests, weed, and water everything in two seconds, but the actual inspection, trimming, and note-taking had to be done by hand.
And second-years only have so much energy.
"Come here, dears! Honey-lemon water and a break!" Professor Sprout called, positively beaming. With a flick of her wand, everyone suddenly had cauldron cakes, shiny candy boxes, and steaming mugs in their hands.
"My little sprout," she said, tugging Sean outside the greenhouse for a second. "Your mum told me you've finished your Animagus transformation?"
Inside, three older Hufflepuff boys—still dripping with yellow-green pus from wrangling Bubotubers—collapsed at the little wooden snack table.
"BRUCE!" Leon yelled the second he saw Bruce lunging for the table.
"DON'T TOUCH MINE!"
Piers was already panicking. Bruce was infamous for pocketing entire platters and leaving nothing behind.
"Next time we're in the greenhouse, my share's yours!" Bruce promised, inches from the table.
Hermione stared, wide-eyed, at the three sudden Hufflepuff seniors.
"Just ignore them," Justin sighed. "Happens a few times a month."
"Bruce is actually dead serious the rest of the time…" Harry added.
"Mmmph—yeah," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of snacks, "long as he's not around other Hufflepuffs… or Sean."
"Damn it, Bruce—you've already eaten your share through graduation!" Leon shouted. He'd fallen for that trick way too many times.
"Wands out, boys!" Bruce announced dramatically. "Winner gets Sprout's treats!"
He never finished the sentence.
"Tarantallegra!"
Piers's spell hit first. Bruce's legs instantly started dancing like he'd been possessed by a hyperactive leprechaun.
"Piers—my heart is broken—you've learned sneak attacks—"
The greenhouse erupted into cheerful chaos.
Hermione had prepared herself for every possible disaster: the older boys might be standoffish, the Animagus thing might be super secret…
She never once imagined grown wizards dueling over cauldron cakes.
You can literally get those for free in the Great Hall every single day.
"It'll calm down in a minute," Justin said, casually hiding Sean's share behind his back.
Because when there's no actual danger, Bruce will happily invent some.