Chapter 14

“Oh, such a diligent child—of course that’s fine, but…”

Professor Sprout placed a box of hazelnut chocolate in Wizard Sean’s palm, then waved her wand.

The flowers, grass, and dirt clinging to Wizard Sean vanished instantly.

“Every year, some young shoots try to take root in the greenhouse, but few can endure the endless, grueling labor.”

Professor Sprout tilted her head slightly, her gentle eyes now holding a hint of amusement.

“I suppose I could tell you a story.”

“Professor, can you tell it next time?”

Bruce, beside him, had turned bright red, drawing Wizard Sean’s curious glance.

“Very well, Mr. Dickinson.”

Professor Sprout’s smile grew warmer.

Leon and Pistor, hiding behind the seedlings, burst out laughing.

“Hey hey hey! You two!”

Bruce looked as if he’d been fully cooked.

“Oh, did I laugh? Sorry—I can’t help it whenever I think of someone scrambling out of the greenhouse…”

Leon laughed even louder.

“Pistor, do you remember his sleep-talking?”

“Whipping Willows, geraniums, save me, Devil’s Snare!”

The chubby Hufflepuff senior mimicked it earnestly.

Everyone present chuckled softly; the atmosphere lightened.

“Alright, alright—I admit the greenhouse is dangerous and fascinating, and also terribly tiring.”

Bruce raised his hands in surrender, sighing.

“That’s why so few wizards stick with it.”

He spoke these words while staring directly at Wizard Sean, his face serious.

“Mm.”

Wizard Sean murmured in reply.

“I want to try.”

His voice was quiet, yet unmistakably stubborn.

…

The greenhouse was always short-staffed; compared to direct and effective spells, engaging Transfiguration, or thrilling Quidditch,

Herbology had always drawn only the hardworking Hufflepuffs.

Yet even diligent, kind Hufflepuffs didn’t stay rooted in the soil forever,

let alone touch dangerous plants.

So Professor Sprout had agreed to Wizard Sean’s request.

Her gaze at him was no different from the one she gave those once-passionate Hufflepuffs—

some admiration, some delight, and some quiet resignation toward the likely outcome.

In the corridor outside the greenhouse.

A long, blue Quick-Quotes Quill floated before Wizard Sean—a magical alchemical artifact.

When placed vertically on parchment, it would automatically begin taking rapid notes.

Wizard Sean had bought only one, mainly to help organize his thoughts and record inspirations.

By the way, stationery prices in the magical world were truly expensive—this quill had cost Wizard Sean a full ten Sickles.

But Wizard Sean had still gritted his teeth and bought it.

Never skimp on learning.

That was Wizard Sean’s thought.

【Step One: Learn the processing methods for all ingredients of the Wartcap Potion】

The quill scratched softly against the parchment as Wizard Sean wrote down his current goal.

Professor Sprout had already approved his request.

Just moments ago, Bruce had demonstrated how to identify and process dried nettle.

Next time, perhaps he could ask about the other ingredients—he thought Professor Sprout wouldn’t refuse.

Once he understood the ingredient processing, the next step would be practice.

Heat control and stirring couldn’t be learned from books—only through personal experience.

But if he succeeded once, he could use his panel to grind it.

The plan was feasible.

Wizard Sean tucked the quill into his bag as Bruce’s teasing voice reached his ears.

“I remember in our first Herbology class, distinguishing mature white moss stumped half the class,”

he watched Wizard Sean taking notes with keen interest.

“Looks like you’ll shine in the next Herbology lesson.

Professor Sprout never withholds points from students who study ahead.”

Points?

Wizard Sean didn’t care much.

Points wouldn’t help him win a scholarship.

Professor McGonagall said the scholarship criteria were set by the Headmaster, who would weigh his academic progress and professors’ evaluations together.

Headmaster Dumbledore was, of course, fair and wise.

Wizard Sean believed that if he met the standard, Dumbledore wouldn’t hesitate to award him 600 Galleons.

It was he who had unhesitatingly approved Wizard Sean’s scholarship application.

If it had been some Black Headmaster, Wizard Sean would’ve had to grind Azkaban’s three-piece set to borrow money from Dark Wizards.

He remembered Hogwarts: Legacy vividly.

There was a popular saying inside it:

“Voldemort is terrifying because he personally killed hundreds of people.”

“Hmm, and then what happened the next day?”

Wizard Sean’s thoughts drifted. In the orphanage, everyone was good at zoning out.

Before his panel activated, when he could only lie weakly in bed, Wizard Sean had done the same.

That was when he realized: some silence wasn’t because there was nothing to say—it was because no one cared.

All of that changed the moment the owl smashed through the drafty window.

So Wizard Sean cherished every chance to learn magic—even white trash, he’d grind into legend.

“Oh, you probably haven’t felt the importance of the House Cup yet,

but believe me—it matters a great deal.

Though we don’t mind the Great Hall decorated with flags of other houses during the Yule Feast,

aren’t Hufflepuff’s yellow and black clearly more attractive?”

Bruce said, his expression dreamy.

“Mm.”

Wizard Sean nodded, and only then did Bruce notice the small wizard beside him was a Ravenclaw.

He gave a forced laugh:

“Ha—I mean, blue and green are pretty nice too.”

“Yellow and black look great.”

Wizard Sean said seriously.

With little time left before the first afternoon class, Wizard Sean shoved the hazelnut chocolate into Bruce’s hands and turned toward the stairs leading to the History of Magic classroom.

“Thank you, Bruce, goodbye.”

Only his faint voice lingered in the corridor.

“Nice little wizard—hard to believe he isn’t a Hufflepuff.”

Leon watched Wizard Sean’s retreating back and smiled gently.

“I wonder who said: Professor Sprout…”

“Don’t say it…”

Leon’s face darkened.

Beside him, Mr. Pistor merely smiled faintly, unfazed.

Mr. Pister, beside him, merely curled his lips in a knowing smile.

Leaving the greenhouse, Wizard Sean had to consider how to resist Professor Binns’ lullaby.

Though the rumor-filled Shrieking Shack had never once been haunted,

Hogwarts was unquestionably the most haunted place in Britain.

Without doubt, because on these damp islands,

There is no doubt on this point, for on these damp islands,

It is said that one can see or sense more ghosts than in any other place on earth.

In Harry Potter’s world, ghosts are also called specters,

they are transparent, three-dimensional apparitions of deceased wizards who remain present in the world of the living.

Muggles cannot become specters after death, and no wise wizard would choose to do so.

Only those wizards who are “unable to let go” refuse to enter the next world, whether out of fear, guilt, or attachment to the material realm.

And Professor Binns, his attachment is reading textbooks.

Wizard Sean Green is certain.