When Robert Sprout tossed a parchment toward her, Umbridge felt an unexpected jolt of unease. This hearing was meant to target Dumbledore by using Professor Sprout as leverage—she was supposed to be in control. Yet somehow, she found herself cornered.
Her toad-like face twitched twice in quick succession, but in the end, she still picked up the quill. Reluctantly, she signed her name on the parchment contract.
"Then," Dumbledore announced, "the contract is established."
He turned to Robert. "Mr. Sprout, you may begin to prove yourself."
Robert nodded and raised his ash wood wand. Immediately, Umbridge felt her hand being lifted by an invisible force, her quill moving on its own.
Still, Umbridge remained skeptical. Could Robert's accomplishments truly be real? Practicing spells non-stop for three days and nights? Repeating a single charm tens of thousands of times? Impossible.
Robert stepped forward, addressing the room. "Everyone, there are only three days left in the Christmas holiday. Feel free to get something to eat or find a place to rest."
Before anyone could fully react, Robert raised his wand. He was casting the Levitation Charm.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
He had chosen the Levitation Charm because it was one of his weaker ones—only Bronze Level. While commendable for a first-year student, it paled in comparison to his other spells, many of which had reached Gold or even Platinum Level.
His specialized spells, like the Soil Loosening Spell and Pruning Charm, were directly designed for planting. Even Lumos had important applications in horticulture. But the Levitation Charm? It had only been used once for planting elber trees.
Still, Robert saw untapped potential. In his previous life, space stations experimented with growing plants in zero gravity, which sometimes led to the development of new traits. Without the force of gravity, plants didn't need to waste nutrients on support structures, leading to more efficient growth. Robert wanted to replicate that—using the Levitation Charm to simulate a zero-gravity environment.
So he took this opportunity to practice.
With his first cast of the spell, the contract's magic forced Umbridge to write the word "fair". Yet she was unconvinced. His Levitation Charm wasn't impressive—it was simply good for a first-year. That didn't make him a genius. In her mind, he was still undeserving of special treatment. She believed she just had to wait for him to tire.
But half an hour passed, and Robert's wand continued to move with unwavering rhythm.
Umbridge frowned, slightly surprised. Could he really sustain this for so long?
Still confident in herself, she continued to write "fair" again and again. She remembered her early days in the Ministry of Magic, forced to transcribe reports manually. She had once copied an entire stack of parchment in a single day without magic. She was used to this kind of repetition.
Three hours went by.
Robert hadn't stopped once. His spells remained consistent, steady.
By now, Umbridge's expression had changed. The parchment before her was crowded with thousands of "fair" entries. Her hand throbbed from the repetitive motion. Yet Robert showed no signs of slowing.
The guests and reporters began to whisper in awe. "Is he really only eleven?" "Merlin's beard—he can't possibly keep this up!"
The spell, though still only Bronze Level, was gradually improving. On Robert's system panel, the glow began shifting toward Silver.
After a short pause for reflection, Robert realized the key.
"Lightness," he murmured. "The body and mind must feel weightless—like a feather on the wind."
He raised his wand once more.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
This time, the spell was clearly more effective. On his system panel, the charm advanced to Silver Level. A small smile appeared on Robert's face. Still, it wasn't enough. The Guardian Tree, the mutated Devil's Snare—these were magical plants with high resistance. A Silver Level charm wouldn't suffice. He needed Gold. Platinum, ideally.
So he continued.
Another hour passed. Then five more. It was late at night. The courtroom was still brightly lit, but fatigue was setting in for the spectators. Reporters yawned; coffee flowed endlessly. But Robert? He was still waving his wand, now with a relaxed, almost joyful expression.
Umbridge looked haggard. Her hand was numb, yet she still had to write "fair" with each of Robert's spells. She hadn't eaten, hadn't slept. Neither had Robert—but he didn't seem to need it.
Eventually, Robert paused again. The charm was close to Gold Level, but something was missing.
Professor Flitwick called out, "Robert—think about the origin of the Levitation Charm. Earl Elber and his voyage."
Robert frowned, recalling the history. Earl Elber had spotted an elber tree growing in the clouds while falling from a flying ship. In that desperate moment, he created the Levitation Charm.
The realization hit him like lightning.
"He wanted to fly! To escape gravity—to float!"
Robert raised his wand once again. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
This time, the golden light of the spell shone brightly.
Levitation Charm: Gold Level
Robert exhaled deeply. He had caught up with his other spells.
And yet, his excitement didn't fade. He turned toward the attending Wizards, many of them Masters in their field.
With genuine curiosity, he began asking questions—deep questions about magic theory and spell progression.
The hearing turned into a spontaneous academic symposium. Heated debates broke out over magical principles. Some perspectives clashed until a Master-level Wizard reconciled them, pointing to a deeper magical truth beneath both.
Robert soaked it all in, his system panel glowing wildly.
Even his Platinum Level spells—Lumos, Soil Loosening, Pruning—shone more brightly. Incarcerous and Sectumsempra progressed rapidly. The Levitation Charm, now Gold, already showed faint platinum flecks.
Then Robert asked the question that silenced the room.
"If spells progress from macroscopic to microscopic expression, what lies at the end of that path? What does magic become?"
Everyone paused. Flitwick looked to Dumbledore.
The Headmaster's eyes gleamed with reverence.
"That is a profound question," Dumbledore said. "Magic deepens, grows more obscure—and eventually, it bends logic. Many who walk far down that path become strange, even mad."
He smiled wryly. "Though don't think my quirks are because of that—I'm just old and odd."
He continued seriously.
"As for what lies at the end… I wish I could tell you. But I don't know. I'm still on the path myself. If I had to name it, perhaps 'Truth'... or maybe 'God.' But whatever it is, it must be magnificent."
He looked at Robert with warmth.
"Maybe one day, you'll see it—and come back to tell me."
Robert felt a jolt of inspiration. Mythical Level—was that what Dumbledore meant?
But he pushed the thought away. One step at a time.
Back home, his system panel lit up like a Christmas tree. The Soil Loosening Spell had advanced to Platinum. Other spells gained massive experience. The Levitation Charm hovered on the brink of Platinum.
Robert grinned. He wasn't done.
He raised his wand to begin again.
The Wizards who had once advised him looked on with mixed feelings—pride, admiration, and envy. Why wasn't this boy their student?
Meanwhile, onstage, Umbridge sat in despair. She hadn't slept, hadn't eaten. Her muscles trembled.
When Robert resumed practice, her arm was dragged into motion again.
Fifteen hours in, she could bear no more.
"Stop," she gasped. "Please… I admit it. I withdraw the accusation. I was wrong!"
With that, the contract activated. The word FAIR was seared into her palm in blazing red.
Screaming, she collapsed.
Robert scoffed. "That's all? Only fifteen hours? I was just getting started."
He turned to Fudge. "Minister, is this how your Ministry trains its staff?"
Fudge's face turned a deep shade of red.
Today had been a disaster.
He forced a smile. "Clearly, there was a misunderstanding. The Ministry apologizes to Professor Sprout."
Sprout said nothing. She simply hugged Robert tightly.
"Don't take such risks again," she whispered. "Just farm. I'll handle the rest."
Robert shook his head gently. "If it's your trouble, Auntie, it's mine too."
Then he grinned. "Besides, didn't everything work out fine?"
Sprout smiled, but her heart was heavy. She had made enemies today—Umbridge, Fudge. She knew they wouldn't forget.
But her resolve steeled.
Anyone who threatened Robert would answer to her.
"Now let's go home," she said. "We still have two days of Christmas left. Let's enjoy them."
As they vanished together, Robert looked back at Dumbledore.
"Headmaster! The contract says the Ministry owes us compensation. Don't forget that!"
Dumbledore chuckled and turned to Fudge, eyes sharp.
"We have much to discuss."
Fudge's heart sank. Not only had they lost face—they'd have to pay for it too.
Back at the Sprout greenhouse, Robert looked up.
The reward light orbs hung heavy like ripe fruit.
He smiled.
"Margaret—it's harvest time."
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