Saturday’s sunshine was pleasant, bathing the ancient castle in warm light as early as six or seven in the morning.
Linus woke up early, left the castle doors, and trod down the bluestone path toward Greenhouse One.
From afar, he spotted Professor Sprout wearing her iconic patched hat, loosening the soil around some Mandrakes.
Linus jogged over, grabbed a pair of dragon-hide gloves resting to the side, and said, “Professor, I’m here to help.”
“Wonderful, Linus!
Dumbledore mentioned you might choose between helping me or Snape with some odd jobs.
I assumed a Potions Master like Snape would be far more appealing.” Professor Sprout sounded pleasantly surprised.
Linus pictured Snape’s cold expression and sharp, biting remarks.
“Professor, if the day ever comes when Professor Snape beats you in a student popularity poll, I’ll suspect that all of Hogwarts has been overrun by zombies.”
*Of course, assuming the vote isn’t held on the day Snape dies,* Linus added silently in his head.
“Ha-ha-ha!
You certainly have a way with words, young Linus,” Professor Sprout chuckled before continuing, “Today, start by helping me prune the branches of these Abyssinian Figs.
Be careful to cut from top to bottom, one node at a time.
If you rile them up, they’ll spray itching powder all over you.”
“I know,” Linus replied.
“It was mentioned in *The Monster Book of Monsters*.”
“As expected of the top student who basically lives in the library,” Professor Sprout praised with an approving nod.
“Professor, not you too,” Linus sighed helplessly as he retrieved shears, bamboo baskets, and other tools from the adjacent shed.
Professor Sprout smiled.
“Well, I happen to have high expectations for your performance in Herbology as well.”
Pruning the Abyssinian Fig branches proved slightly more troublesome than anticipated.
The textbook made it sound simple—just cut node by node—but locating the nodes on each branch took time and close observation.
Even once found, the shortness of the shoots required careful maneuvering to avoid puncturing unripe fruit with the blades.
As Linus worked on his plant, he kept a close eye on Professor Sprout’s technique.
Her movements were far swifter and cleaner than his; she would pinch two branches, gauge their length with a glance, and snip them down node by node in seconds before moving on to the next.
*Practice makes perfect, I suppose,* Linus thought, shaking his head.
Stopping his comparison with the professor’s pace, he focused entirely on tackling the fig plant in front of him.
Before he knew it, the morning had slipped away.
Professor Sprout patted Linus on the shoulder.
“Time for lunch in the Great Hall, Linus.”
“Oh, right.” Linus finished the final cut in his hands and stood up.
“How was it?
“A bit harder than the books describe,” Linus admitted with a shake of his head.
“But staying here for a while feels really peaceful.”
“You’re always welcome in the greenhouses.” Professor Sprout gave his back a friendly pat.
“I’ll be back next Saturday,” Linus promised cheerfully.
After a hasty lunch, Linus headed down to Snape’s dungeon office in the afternoon.
Indeed, he had chosen both.
That morning, upon hearing that Dumbledore had spoken to both professors in advance, Linus decided he had better show up at Snape’s office that afternoon.
He shuddered to think what kind of tempestuous wrath he would face in Potions class next Friday if Snape waited in his office for two days only to be stood up.
Naturally, this decision had absolutely nothing to do with the two system quests: [Advanced Herbology: Complete 10 private lessons with Professor Sprout.
Progress: 1/10.
Reward: Herbology Talent Upgrade (White -> Blue)] [Advanced Potions: Spend 10 delightful afternoons alone with Professor Snape.
Progress: 0/10.
Reward: Potions Talent Upgrade (White -> Blue)]
The corridor leading down to the dungeons was gloomy and dimly lit.
Being the weekend, he walked for quite a while without encountering a single student.
Arriving at the door to Snape’s office, Linus knocked.
“Enter,” came Snape’s silk-thin, whispered permission from within.
Linus pushed the door open to find Snape, clad in his signature black robes, standing over a cauldron brewing a pale purple potion.
Steam rose from the glass vessel, forming a miniature storm cloud near the ceiling.
“A Minor Rain Potion, Professor?” Linus caught a faint bitterness in the air, tinged with a citrusy scent reminiscent of boiled Fanged Geranium juice.
“Spend less time reading upper-year textbooks,” Snape replied, his tongue as sharp as ever.
“Your priority right now is brewing a passably acceptable Swelling Solution.
Any amount of theory is merely scratching the surface when faced with your dreadful practical work.”
Linus stepped up to the workstation, naturally taking the silver knife handed over by Snape, and began prepping the fluxweed.
“Use the spine of the blade,” Snape said coldly.
“Good method, Professor.
Is this what the books describe as ‘gentle granularity’?” Linus murmured, lightly running his fingers along the fluxweed stem crushed by the blade’s back, a look of spellbound fascination in his eyes.
“Keep your hands moving,” Snape commanded.
Seeing Linus’s expression, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly before settling back into a stoic line.
He recalled the scene two nights ago when Dumbledore had visited him:
“Severus, I’d like to ask a favor,” Dumbledore had said, getting straight to the point.
“Mr.
Linus Sunwood might come to see you this week.
I hope you can spare some time to give him a bit of guidance in Potions.”
“Oh?” Snape had put on his customary sneer.
“Does the Headmaster feel my weekly workload of grading idiotic essays from hundreds of dunderheads across seven years is too light?
Are you arranging extra weekend duties so I can truly earn Hogwarts’ monthly wage of five Gold Galleons?”
“Severus, Linus needs help,” Dumbledore had said, ignoring Snape’s sarcasm.
Snape’s sneer faded.
“I doubt Mr.
Sunwood can gain anything useful from me.
Truthfully, despite reading so many books and possessing knowledge far beyond young wizards his age, he simply lacks the talent for Potions.
I could tell from the very first lesson, and extra classes won’t change that.”
“I don’t expect him to become a Potions Master as exceptional as you,” Dumbledore replied, pausing briefly.
“I merely hope spending time in your office will help soothe his tightly wound nerves.
Perhaps it stems from his background as an orphan, but Linus is far too tense at Hogwarts.
He pours practically all his time and energy into improving his spellcasting, almost at any cost.”
“It’s natural for children this age to practice intensely out of novelty when first exposed to magic.
Give him a little time, and he’ll adjust to Hogwarts like the rest,” Snape offered, perhaps touched by the word ‘orphan’.
“Besides, even if he gives it his all, how much harm could a first-year possibly do?”
“What if I told you that he already possesses the strength to challenge certain slack Seventh-Years?” Dumbledore revealed his observation.
“Merlin’s beard!
He isn’t your lovechild, is he?” Snape blurted out.
“That joke isn’t funny, Severus.”
Snape twitched his mouth.
“Very well.
Are you worried about raising the next Dark Lord during your tenure?”
“I only worry that I might fail to guide a young seedling onto the right path,” Dumbledore sighed.
“Fine, but I only agree to teach him Potions.
Anything else is beyond my expertise.” Looking at the weary old man before him, Snape softened.
“Distracting him even slightly from that desperate, single-minded path is already a great help,” Dumbledore smiled.