Professor Sprout took a deep, steadying breath, her eyes shining with an emotion that went beyond mere pride. She looked at Ciel, her voice filled with sincere awe.
"To cultivate Marguerites of perfect quality… Ciel, you are an absolute genius in Herbology!"
She wasn't exaggerating. While the method for planting Marguerites was simple on paper, their growth requirements were uniquely demanding. They needed an intensely hot and stuffy environment, but they also needed the cultivator to provide genuine, heartfelt happiness. To achieve perfect quality, the conditions had to be extreme.
In such oppressive heat, even with protective charms, most wizards would feel miserable. And how many people in the world could be genuinely overjoyed while being slowly cooked alive? Even a Master Herbologist didn't have such masochistic tendencies.
But Ciel was different. He was truly, exceptionally happy in his work. This was the secret ingredient, the reason this batch of seedlings had achieved a perfect state from the moment they were planted. If this could be maintained, the potions brewed from these Marguerites would be more potent than anything described in textbooks.
A hidden hope stirred in Professor Sprout's heart. She knew of an ancient, almost mythical recipe: the Talent Growth Potion. It was said that wizards with weak magical cores had used it to become magical powerhouses. But the ingredients were incredibly rare and demanding. The very foundation of the potion was perfect-quality Marguerites.
The other ingredients were even rarer, and brewing it required a Potions Master of the highest caliber. Because of these impossible requirements, the potion had scarcely appeared in recorded history.
But now, perfect-quality Marguerites were about to be produced right here, in her family's greenhouse. And as for a Potions Master? Severus Snape was, without a doubt, one of the finest in the world.
A glimmer of hope ignited within her. One ingredient is secured. Perhaps… perhaps I can find the others for Ciel. Then, his magical talent can be improved!
She kept this revelation to herself. The recipe was ancient, the ingredients scattered and likely dangerous to acquire. She couldn't give Ciel this incredible hope only to have it snatched away. That would be a cruelty she couldn't bear. It was better to wait, to gather everything first. As for the dangers she might face? Professor Sprout didn't care. For Ciel—her only family—no cost was too high.
With renewed resolve, she forcefully pulled him out of the sweltering greenhouse. "I don't care what your habits were before," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "But here, Ciel, you will eat well and sleep well!"
Ciel could only nod helplessly. If his aunt hadn't been so insistent, he would have gladly stayed up all night, tending to his new crop.
Thankfully, she explained that the need for happy emotions was most critical when the seeds were first planted. Since he had cultivated them perfectly and provided an abundance of joy at the start, they wouldn't need his constant companionship. After a month, they would only require daily pruning and maintenance, and they would be fully mature in about six months.
Ciel's eyes sparkled. Six months? That's incredibly fast!
Later, at the dinner table, Professor Sprout forked a piece of savoury pie onto his plate. "Alright," she said softly. "Combining work and rest is essential. Whether one is a Potions Master or a Herbologist, balance is a required course. Come, try the food from the Hufflepuff kitchen."
Ciel took a bite, and a look of genuine admiration crossed his face. "It's really good," he said, his eating speed increasing. "Aunt, you haven't eaten yet, have you? You should eat, too."
They shared a smile, and for the first time in a long time, the empty Sprout family manor felt warm and full of life.
In the blink of an eye, two months had passed. The date was now September 1st, 1991. The first day of the Hogwarts school year.
Early that morning, Professor Sprout went straight to the greenhouse. Just as she expected, Ciel was already hard at work amidst the sweltering heat.
"Ciel!" she called out, stopping him. "Today is your big day! The start of school! You don't have to work so hard, do you?"
Ciel looked up, momentarily stunned. "School starts today? Time passes so quickly."
A month ago, he had successfully filled the entire greenhouse with Marguerites. Since then, he had spent his days meticulously caring for the plants, watching the reward halos above them grow stronger with each passing day. The feeling was so satisfying, so all-consuming, that he had completely lost track of time. If his aunt hadn't reminded him, he truly would have forgotten.
He waved his wand, drawing a small triangle in the air before a patch of Marguerites. With a sharp flick of his wrist, like scissors snapping shut, he incanted, "Arbor-Siccus!"
This was the Pruning Charm, the second spell he had learned from his aunt. It was faster and more precise than using shears, and it had a unique advantage: the dead branches and withered leaves it trimmed instantly turned to ash, merging back into the soil as nutrients. Using the charm didn't just clean the plants; it made them grow even more luxuriantly.
As the charm took effect, the patch of Marguerites seemed to become more vibrant, their green leaves shining with health. Professor Sprout watched the process, her expression filled with admiration.
"Ciel, your Pruning Charm is getting better and better."
He smiled. "In two months, I haven't learned any other spells. From morning till night, it's just been the Soil-Loosening Charm and the Pruning Charm. If I still couldn't use them well, I'd truly be unworthy of the Sprout name."
Professor Sprout's heart swelled with pride. "My dear Ciel," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "the Sprout name will shine brighter than ever because of you. But for now, the Marguerites have passed their initial stage. I will arrange for their care. You must not be late for school."
Ciel looked at the sea of green, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. But then he thought of Hogwarts, and especially of the legendary greenhouses his aunt had described so many times. A surge of excitement replaced his reluctance. The Sprout family greenhouse was already this magical; he could hardly imagine what the one at Hogwarts would be like.
He only needed to wait another four months to harvest the rewards from this patch. By then, his magic would surely be stronger. Perhaps strong enough to plant even more wondrous magical plants.
With this thought, he efficiently packed his luggage. Professor Sprout watched him, a thoughtful, expectant expression on her face.
I wonder which House he'll be sorted into… she mused to herself. Well, if he's not sorted into Hufflepuff, I'll be having a very stern word with that Sorting Hat. Perhaps I'll toss it into the fertiliser bin!
She took his hand. "Hold on tight," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Next stop, King's Cross Station!"
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