The morning sun filtered through the glass panes.
Inside the greenhouse, Robert Sprout stood quietly, his eyes fixed on the system panel before him. There, a new entry gleamed—his second platinum-grade charm, this time the Pruning Charm. His first had been the platinum Lumos.
He let out a long breath, equal parts awe and anticipation. Ever since Lumos had undergone its qualitative transformation, Robert had been able to perceive countless microscopic magical particles within its light. That microscopic vision had sparked a theory—could Lumos eventually evolve into something akin to a laser?
Now, he wondered what change would manifest in the Pruning Charm.
With barely contained excitement, Robert raised his wand and gave a gentle, fluid wave.
"Arbor-Siccus," he intoned.
At once, an invisible, razor-sharp magic surged from the wand's tip. It sliced through the air, striking at the thick, tangled roots of a Devil's Snare.
Suddenly—an unexpected, strange feedback pulsed through him. His eyes widened.
"Hmm?"
Meanwhile, far from the greenhouse, Professor Sprout stirred awake, the soft morning light illuminating her room. After a cup of calming floral tea, the fatigue from her late-night academic work began to fade.
But an unsettling feeling lingered.
Something felt wrong.
A tapping at the window interrupted her thoughts. A messenger owl arrived, dropping the latest edition of The Daily Prophet onto her desk. Professor Sprout absentmindedly opened it, barely glancing at the front page—until a headline froze her in place:
"Eleven-Year-Old Publishes in Top Herbology Journal: Genius or Academic Injustice?"
Beneath the headline, a bold photograph showed her standing in the family greenhouse, smiling as she handed a golden, embossed envelope to Robert Sprout.
Professor Sprout's gentle expression turned stormy.
Her hand tightened around the paper. Who took this photo? she wondered. It looked orchestrated—as if it were part of a conspiracy.
Her eyes darted back to the article. But after reading just a few paragraphs, her fury boiled over.
"This is utter nonsense!" she exclaimed.
"Distortions—twisted half-truths! And now the writer dares to swear by Veritaserum? Shameless!"
Yet her anger was quickly replaced by deep concern. She wasn't naive. A story like this—featuring a respected Herbology Master and Hufflepuff House Dean—would spark explosive gossip across the Wizarding World.
And that was exactly what happened.
At the Diggory family home, nearing the end of the Christmas holidays, Cedric Diggory was already focused on Quidditch training. He believed this year was Hufflepuff's chance to win both the House Cup and Quidditch Cup.
He bounded downstairs, thoughts of victory fueling his stride—until he saw his father, Amos Diggory, staring at the front page of The Daily Prophet, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Did your team add a first-year student this year?" Amos asked, voice tinged with concern.
Cedric nodded. "Yes. Robert Sprout joined the team."
Amos shot up from his chair.
"So it's true?! Why could you only join in second year, but this Sprout family child gets special treatment? I can't believe Professor Sprout would be so biased."
Amos' face was clouded with frustration. "You're the Seeker, the Captain, and now you're being sidelined for a first-year? That's outrageous!"
Cedric's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
He snatched the newspaper and scanned the front page.
In moments, his face flushed red with anger.
"They're saying Robert only made the team because of Professor Sprout's influence? That we're all forced to revolve the strategy around him?"
Cedric slammed the paper on the table.
"This is slander!" he declared. "Robert is one of the most hardworking teammates I've ever seen. We wouldn't have gotten this far without him!"
Amos looked uncertain. "Are you sure, son? The paper also says Professor Sprout gave him access to the experimental greenhouse plot—something most students dream of. Is that false too?"
Cedric took a long breath.
He realized the damage this article could do. If even his father doubted Robert's efforts, what about the rest of the magical community?
He ran back upstairs, mind racing.
I have to act fast.
"I need to contact everyone—our Quidditch team, classmates, housemates—we must speak up. This can't stand!"
His hands clenched into fists.
"If they want to slander our Dean and our housemate—they'd better be ready to pay the price."
Rumors spread like wildfire through Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and beyond.
In the Leaky Cauldron, murmurs buzzed at every table. Tom, the barkeep, stormed through the tavern, snatching newspapers from guests and tearing them to shreds.
"Out!" he barked. "No gossiping here!"
But even his fury couldn't stop the rumors.
Within the Ministry of Magic, Minister Cornelius Fudge leaned back in his office chair, eyes sparkling as he read the article.
For Fudge, this wasn't just scandal—it was opportunity.
His rise to power had come only after Dumbledore declined the Minister role. That shadow had always loomed over him. If Dumbledore ever changed his mind, Fudge knew he'd be ousted immediately.
But now—here was a chance to weaken Dumbledore's influence.
If Professor Sprout could be implicated in academic misconduct, it would reflect poorly on Dumbledore's leadership of Hogwarts. This could be the political lever Fudge had long searched for.
He made up his mind.
"Hogwarts is funded and overseen by the Ministry," Fudge declared.
"We must ensure educational fairness. This warrants a public investigation."
Immediately, a formal letter was dispatched to Hogwarts—and to Professor Sprout herself.
Back at the Sprout family estate, Professor Sprout sat in silence, reading the Ministry's letter.
She wasn't shaken by the rumors, nor the idea of being investigated.
She had survived worse.
Years ago, long before becoming a Herbology Master, she'd been the target of similar schemes. People had slandered her to compete for her teaching post.
But this time, what truly enraged her was that Robert Sprout—an innocent child—had been dragged into it.
She could sense something darker behind the media storm. Political forces, perhaps aiming higher than her. Maybe even Dumbledore was the real target.
She sighed, and left a brief letter for Robert, reassuring him not to worry, and informing him she had matters to address.
Then, she quietly left the estate.
Inside the greenhouse, unaware of the chaos brewing outside, Robert continued to explore the new depths of the Pruning Charm.
Since its platinum-grade evolution, the feedback had changed dramatically.
Previously, casting it felt like using scissors on paper—a direct, physical sensation.
Now, it was subtler, more intricate.
It was as though he had become a master butcher dissecting an ox, effortlessly slipping his wand into spaces of no thickness, bypassing surface resistance.
The magic seemed to dissolve the molecular bonds of the plant's structure.
Robert's mind raced.
"Could this be the common trait of platinum-level charms?" he wondered. "Both Lumos and the Pruning Charm evolve from the macroscopic to the microscopic."
"This might mark the threshold of true mastery."
But one issue remained.
His perception of the microscopic wasn't entirely clear.
"It's probably due to my Magic Perception," he mused. "The golden-level perception enhancement isn't enough. I need to upgrade it further to perceive and control these microscopic changes with clarity."
Still, even now, the Pruning Charm had clearly become more powerful—even though his overall magic intensity hadn't changed.
He raised his wand again.
With another cast, the magic danced across the surface of the Devil's Snare roots. There was no resistance. A precise, clean incision formed instantly.
Robert's eyes lit up.
"It seems—" he said aloud, "I can try cultivating the Devil's Snare again."
The possibilities excited him. He could now prune at a cellular level, which might open doors to rare Herbological breakthroughs.
Yet, for all his excitement, he remained blissfully unaware of the storm that awaited him outside the greenhouse.
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