Chapter 291: Greenhouse Three
Justin spoke with an easy, natural tone, leaving Sean to ponder in silence for a few seconds.
The difficulty of the Animagus transformation lay in its tedious steps, the immense requirement of the wizard's willpower, and the constant threat of unforeseen accidents. If those hurdles could be overcome, achieving the transformation by one's second year wasn't entirely a flight of fancy.
Before attempting such a feat, meticulous observation was essential. In truth, before learning any high-level branch of magic, the guidance of those who had walked the path before was vital.
Sean was about to speak when he was interrupted.
"Mr. Green, it's... a pleasure to see you," Hannah Abbott said. She was noticeably shy when facing Sean, but she turned a rather sharp gaze toward Justin.
"I'm beginning to think you're slacking off, Justin. You've been trying to recruit Mr. Green to the club for ages with nothing to show for it—and you didn't even help with the new member drive today. You're not acting like a Vice President at all. At this rate, we'll never find the Castle Kneazle!"
With a huff, she marched away, dragging a miserable-looking Justin along with her.
Sean was left standing there, shaking his head slightly while clutching his books.
That afternoon, the Ravenclaws were scheduled for Herbology.
Sean left the castle, crossing the vegetable patches and heading toward the greenhouses where a variety of magical flora was cultivated. As he approached, he saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout.
Just as Sean joined the group, Professor Sprout came striding across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout had several rolls of bandages draped over her arm.
Sean looked thoughtful. Glancing into the distance, he noticed that several branches of the Whomping Willow were also suspended in slings made of bandages. Magical plants were peculiar; it seemed that when they were injured, they required the same medical dressings as a wizard.
Professor Sprout was wearing a patched hat over her flyaway hair, and her clothes were, as usual, dusted with earth. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was spotless from head to toe. He wore flowing robes of aquamarine, and a matching hat with gold edging was perched perfectly atop his shining blonde hair.
"Oh, hello there!" Lockhart called out cheerfully to the students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you thinking I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happened to encounter several of these exotic specimens during my travels..."
Sean looked up. Professor Sprout did not look happy.
Hogwarts had very few wizards who could truly get on Professor Sprout's nerves; she was a woman of vast patience and kindness. Sean found it remarkable that Lockhart could irritate her with a single sentence.
"Greenhouse Three today!" Professor Sprout announced. She was visibly curt, a stark departure from her usual cheery disposition.
As she passed Sean, her expression softened slightly. "Mr. Green, your mother requested quite a few Mandrake leaves from me over the summer. I take it you've been studying the Animagus transformation?" She naturally drew him to her side, speaking in a warm, low voice.
"Yes, Professor," Sean replied.
"Blimey!" Professor Sprout beamed. Her delight seemed to stem from several reasons at once. "Oh—but why are you speaking, child? It's best not to open your mouth while the leaf is in place."
"I understand," Sean nodded, before adding an explanation. "But I've already succeeded, Professor."
"Oh, my... my dear little blossom, you've actually succeeded?" Professor Sprout's voice was thick with genuine shock and joy.
As they talked, they inadvertently ignored the grinning Lockhart. His eyes flickered; instead of leaving, he followed the class into Greenhouse Three.
"I told you—Sean is Professor Sprout's private—"
A year had passed, and Michael Corner still hadn't given up on his grand conspiracy theory. Anthony Goldstein quickly clapped a hand over Michael's mouth before his common sense could flee entirely.
"Then... how do you explain it?" Michael gasped once he had pried Anthony's hand away and caught his breath.
"Maybe try getting top marks in every single subject," Anthony replied. He reached into his book and pulled out a copy of the year-end rankings.
In their entire year, Sean was the undisputed number one. Rumor had it that the professors had actually argued during the grading process, debating whether they should invent a grade higher than 'Outstanding' just for him.
Behind Sean was Hermione, who was both naturally gifted and terrifyingly hard-working. Then came Justin and Anthony himself, tied for third.
Anthony's brow furrowed as he scanned the names. Sean Green was a titan, his Green's Notes proving he was nearly impossible to catch. Hermione Granger was no slouch either; the "Know-It-All" was a fierce competitor in every field. Justin Finch-Fletchley followed Sean's lead in everything, so his success was somewhat expected.
But what about Harry Potter? The boy who had been average and even disappointing at the start of the year had suddenly surged upward, missing third place by only a few marks. He was terrifyingly strong in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. If this continued, Anthony wouldn't even be able to hold onto the top three.
"Did you find that club of Sean's...?" Anthony asked.
"Oh! Naturally!" Michael raised an eyebrow. "I gave my spot to Neville, but I discovered an interesting fact: they've all joined a very specific, private club."
As the students bickered, they filed into Greenhouse Three. To the students' knowledge, no first-year had ever been permitted inside.
In reality, Sean had spent a good deal of last winter here. He had outmaneuvered Gnarled Vines, beaten back Devil's Snare, and even used a Transfigured yeti to tie Venomous Tentacula into knots. Every time he stepped inside, he was reminded of that magic-filled winter.
Greenhouse Three smelled of damp earth and fertilizer, heavy with the cloying scent of giant lilies the size of umbrellas hanging from the ceiling. Professor Sprout stood behind a trestle table in the center of the room. On the table sat about twenty pairs of earmuffs in various colors.
As the students gathered around, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today."
"Professor Sprout, I don't suppose you'd mind if I sat in?" Lockhart's brilliant white teeth flashed in the sunlight.
Judging by Professor Sprout's face, she minded very much.
"I believe the Professor does mind," a voice spoke from behind him. It was Bruce, an upper-year. "After all, professional work should be left to the professionals, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Lockhart? Greenhouse Three has certain plants that drop... peculiar powders. There's no telling what the effects might be on the unprepared."
"I've happened to encounter every plant in this greenhouse during my travels," Lockhart said, maintaining his suave demeanor. "Though, of course, I know that doesn't quite compare to the prestige of winning Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row."
Several of the young witches in the room looked positively starstruck.
"Splendid," Bruce said with a nod of approval, sounding like he was Lockhart's biggest fan. He turned to leave, but before he was out of earshot, he whispered to a friend:
"Did you get the itching powder in place?"
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