A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts C.373: Sprout’s Greenhouse

In the dimly lit chamber of Classroom 7, a trio consisting of Cedric Diggory, Roger Davies, and Collins Flew faced off against a serpent creature, its deep green scales stretched over fifty feet in length.

"Collins! Watch your flank!" Cedric shouted.

Collins immediately closed her eyes. In the next moment, she felt a chilling gaze fixated on her. Her body stiffened as her magical essence seemed to solidify, almost turning her into stone. She knew this was the effect of the Hyper-Sensory Hex.

"I'm not a mute target!"

Stumbling back, she narrowly avoided a stone the size of a palm that grazed her forehead, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. She remained low, patiently waiting for her opportunity.

"Roger! It's looking at you now!"

Cedric's voice echoed, prompting Collins to open her eyes abruptly. With practiced precision, she cast the "Eye-Blitz Hex," sending it flying before retreating to shield herself from the debris.

"Only the left eye remains!" Davies reminded.

Several minutes later, the serpent creature lay battered and breathing, its body covered in wounds, and its eyes blinded. Death was imminent, a fate not far off under ordinary circumstances.

Gathered from different paths, they watched in silence as the serpent creature dispersed into countless green sparks, a surge of accomplishment swelling within them.

Roger Davies slumped onto the ground, fatigue overcoming him. He cared little for appearances now, knowing that they had seen worse. This marked their fifth encounter with the serpent creature; the previous four had ended in total defeat.

"Marvelous victory!" cried Professor Flitwick, suddenly appearing. His legs had transformed into wisps of mist, carrying his diminutive form in a swirling trajectory right before them.

Cedric grinned. It had been Professor Flitwick they had encountered after traversing the bat-infested cave, using the Ironclad Charm.

The current four Heads of House exhibited distinct personalitiesProfessor Flitwick, the Charms master and head of Ravenclaw, was forever effervescent and prone to exuberant praise for the slightest progress; Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor and Transfiguration expert, embodied seriousness and meticulousness, offering sage advice at the outset; while the youthful Albus Dumbledore, in his prime, cherished conversations, revealing insights that left students in awe.

Ancient Runes Professor Harp was quite unconventional. He often appeared during their trials, scrutinizing them keenly and critiquing their errors in a not-so-pleasant manner. He was equally willing to demonstrate solutions personally after their failureshis own way.

"...You may have noticed that the idea of gazing into a serpent's eyes causing instant death is a misconception. Killing a wizard is no easy feat. If magic doesn't play a role, you'll find their eyes aren't much different from those of ordinary snakes."

Professor Flitwick, true to form, concluded with his post-challenge remarks, evaluating their performance.

"But Professor, two years ago, a student and a cat were petrified by the basilisk in the Chamber," Cedric inquired, puzzled.

"That doesn't necessarily prove anything. The basilisk was in an aggressive state then, attacking any living being in its sight. There's no reason to believe it maintained a substantial magical presence in its eyes while alone."

Collins analyzed calmly, "Professor Flitwick, may I suggest that the basilisk's gaze is akin to our magic, under some form of control?"

Professor Flitwick nodded, his high-pitched approval ringing out, "Precisely! The results of examining a basilisk conducted by Severus validate this!"

"Any other examples, Professor?" Cedric asked.

"Of course! Take the Demiguise, for instance..." Professor Flitwick recounted.

...

With weary bodies, Cedric and company exited the chamber. Behind them, the dark, damp, narrow room gradually vanished. They now stood on smooth, pristine flooring in an expansive space where three structures of differing sizes and styles eerily coalescedindicating other students' presence.

Felix and Professor Sprout approached, their gazes narrowing as they focused on the professors' attire. It was a technique they had learned over the past monththe attire of Classroom 7's administrators emitted a faint silvery light.

It was a method to distinguish reality from illusion.

And the two before them... were real.

"Professor Sprout, Professor Harp!" they greeted. Felix and Professor Sprout nodded gently, acknowledging them before moving deeper.

"Cedric, what do you think they're here for?" Davies wondered.

Cedric's gaze rested on the professors' backs, a sudden expression of excitement crossing his face. His grey eyes gleamed with fervor, "Perhaps we're about to welcome a new professor..."

Collins Flew, usually composed, displayed a hint of surprise, "Absolutely not!"

"Why?" Cedric fixed his gaze on her. Professor Sprout was her Head of House, after all.

"Consider what subject she teaches," Collins closed her eyes, "I dropped Herbology in sixth year; I just couldn't stand tending to increasingly twisted and hideous plants."

Her trembling lips continued, "Stinging venom tentacles, biting venomous teeth geraniums, slippery salivating Sneezeworts, splattering Puslums... Take the Bubotuber, for instance. In second year, you merely observed from a distance, by fourth year you had to squeeze pus from them, and what about sixth year?"

She turned to Cedric.

Cedric answered bitterly, "Skinning and pollinating."

...

Deep within Classroom 7, two professors stood side by side in quietude.

A silver, diminutive figure appeared before them, growing clearer by the moment. Felix felt as if he were seeing a pair of twins, both adorned with flowing grey hair and patch-covered, thick hats.

Sprout's memory hummed a tune as it conjured wondrous plants from thin air. Just the Knockturn Willows alone, she had conjured more than a dozen. With agile steps, she scattered ebony seeds, and within moments, clusters of thorny vines, jet-black in color, reached five or six feet in height.

Beside Felix, Professor Sprout watched the scene with envy. The black thorns entwined to form towering walls.

"I once suggested to Dumbledore that we plant a circle of them along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but the workload was immense. In the end, we had to abandon the idea."

"Um, I imagine the students have their hands full" simultaneously, the Weasley twins were in the common room, bemoaning their apparent loss of flying ability. Harry, busy catching up on assignments, was surprised to realize he hadn't touched a broom in a while.

So, that evening, he took Ron and Hermione, who seemed to be drowning in a sea of books, to the Quidditch pitch.

At the southeastern corner of the pitch, a construction site had taken over. A dozen or so buildings were connected in a circular fashion, forming a protective ring around the central, tallest structureit only lacked a spire to complete it.

A group of workers bustled about, completing the final touches.

Harry and company observed from a distance, basking in October's cool breeze as they flew on broomsticks. Hermione perched on her broom, elevating it three feet off the ground, while lazily circling the pitch. Harry manipulated the Firebolt, accelerating continuously until he became a crimson streak. Higher and farther he soared, spotting Hagrid as he lugged a piece of wood at least thirty feet long.

"Hagrid, need a hand?" Harry swooped down, circling around Hagrid before landing in front of him.

Hagrid regarded him skeptically.

Harry, without much preamble, withdrew his wand and incanted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Hagrid shrugged off the wood on his shoulder and grumbled, "Could've managed it" They returned to the pitch, where a red-faced wizard in a sun hat shouted, "Over here, Hagrid! A bit more effort, and we'll finish today."

Hagrid hefted the wood, effortlessly planting it in the ground. Harry, beside him, noticed it was a support beam for the structure.

The red-faced wizard incanted a spell, locking the beam into place. Two others scrutinized blueprints, one of them complained, "Are they moving the entire school here? Finn... leave some room; we need space for the statue."

"Statue? What statue?" the wizard named Finn bellowed.

"They're bringing their own, but we need to reserve the space. Do you see where you're standing? That's where a massive Thunderbird will go."

Harry approached Hagrid, inquiring, "This is...?"

"Hogwarts School of Emery." Hagrid's response was succinct, and he eyed Hermione and Ron. Ron, enthusiastically, weaved in and out of the Quidditch goalposts, shouting in excitement.

Hagrid's contemplative gaze lingered, "Seems like yeh lot've been cooped up tight. Yeh're welcome t' come by fer tea, Luna and Ginny drop by often, an' so does Ferenz"

"Luna and Ginny?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Yeah, got a fair bit of news from 'em, I did. Ginny wanted t' borrow Aragog from me, testin' if Ron's really over his arachnophobia. Y'know, she's always been curious"

"Aragog, is... um, is he alright?" Harry asked, intending to inquire if the old spider was dead, though it didn't seem quite polite.

"Gettin' by," muttered Hagrid, "Truth be told, not doin' too well. He's been wantin' to go back int' the forest, but the Acromantula's nest ain't there no more, an' he can't see... Felix has been castin' spells every monthScalagify Charm, so I can let 'im out fer a stroll, not always cooped up in the cage... A bit o' sun, tad o' frog spawn, not bad at all..."

He rambled on, leaving Harry quite surprised; he seemed to have missed quite a few things.

As they returned to the castle from the pitch, Hermione continued to complain about missing fifty pages from her book, yet her smile was evident. Harry and Ron had grown accustomed to her half-hearted remarks, but Ron interrupted, claiming he hadn't finished his Divination assignment.

"But you don't seem worried at all?" Hermione gazed at him quizzically.

"Thanks to all the time spent with Harry in the Restricted Section, we've come up with quite a few new approaches," Ron said, "It helps keep our grades up."

"Yes, creating a catalogue of fictional misfortunes to earn high marks," Hermione retorted, "Are you certain Professor Trelawney can understand the effects of the curses we're inventing in the Restricted Section?"

Ron's confidence wavered, and he hesitated before looking at Harry.

At that moment, they walked into the entrance hall, where a new notice was posted on the grand bulletin board, surrounded by a throng of students.

"Inter-School Championship: The Beauxbatons Delegation will arrive on Sunday, October 16th at 10 a.m. Students and faculty are advised to be prepared"

"I knew it!" Ron shouted, as if he'd discovered a profound truth, "No wonder the professors have been harping on etiquette the past few days!"

Harry said nothing; his thoughts had already leaped to two days later, to Beauxbatons What would their students be like?

>

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