This is Chaser 2 checking in for Round 6 of the Quidditch League FanFic Competition!
Prompt: Pomona Sprout
Optional prompts: (object) Sickle, (dialogue) "If you are going to breathe down my neck, at least have a mint.", (object) banana
Enjoy!
The soft tinkling chimes of magical bluebells filled the room as they stretched out towards the first brush of morning sunlight peeking through the window of Pomona Sprout's living quarters.
On the opposite side of the room where she lay in her bed, Pomona opened her eyes. She watched her lovely potted bluebells as they unfurled and grew for a few moments, basking in the sunlight. Nature's alarm clock, her mentor had called them. This time of year, they always woke her up with more than enough time to take a leisurely pace with her morning routine. Indeed, 5:30am was more than enough time to accomplish everything before her first class. It wouldn't hurt to stay snuggled up in bed for a few minutes more…
Pomona's eyes snapped opened again as she heard the muffled clunk of metal against wood. With a bit of a sigh and a small smile, she pushed her blankets away and rolled out of bed. Like her bluebells, she stretched as she stood, noting the now persistent stiffness in her back. She must put in for a new mattress with the Headmistress. Surely it was time for one if she'd not had a new once since she started at Hogwarts… however many years ago that was. She pushed the calculation out of her mind as she walked over to the little wooden box sitting on the windowsill next to her flowers.
As she picked up the box, she ran her thumb over the carvings on the lid. The etching was a beautiful tangle of ivy and flowers, the colors of the paint just as vibrant as the day she had received it.
Pomona hadn't been expecting any mail that day since her mother's letters usually came in the middle of the week and her birthday wasn't for two more weeks. Nevertheless, at the end of breakfast the small package was plopped down right on top of her head. To the amusement of her surrounding housemates, she had reached into her curls to pull out a small square box wrapped in plain brown paper and a bit of string.
She pushed away her plate, setting the box in front of her on the table, turning it first one way and then the other, looking for a tag or message of some kind. Finally turning it over, scribbled on the bottom was a message: "Something to help count down until your birthday, sweetheart. We love you very much and are so proud of you. ~Pops"
Careful to preserve the note, Pomona tore off the paper, revealing the beautiful carved box. Softly lifting the lid, she saw a glimmer inside. A sickle. A single sickle laying in the bottom of the box.
Pomona lifted the lid on her box, just as she did every year on May first, and smiled at the note in her father's handwriting now stuck to the inside of the lid. Inside was a single silver sickle. From the first to the thirteenth, Pomona would receive a single sickle until the fourteenth, when on her birthday she would receive four, bringing the total to a whole galleon. Her parents had been so disappointed that they would be apart for her birthday her first year at Hogwarts. Now, even though they were gone and the family vaults were in her name, she still got her birthday money every single year.
Picking up the sickle, she turned and walked over to her apron, hanging on a hook next to her door.
"Birthday month or no, there's still work to be done," she said as she dropped the coin in her apron pocket.
At six-thirty in the morning there were few other living people walking about the castle. Often Pomona would come across Mrs. Norris coming in from a patrol or exchange "Good mornings" with the Fat Friar in the corridor. Occasionally she would also find a tabby cat sitting unnaturally still at a window, looking out at the grounds, its tail flicking back and forth. Once, years ago, she had tried to pet it - she thought perhaps it was one of her own student's pets. It had hissed at her so fiercely that Pomona had resolved to let it alone from then on.
In the near-silence of the castle, Pomona made her way to the painting of the bowl of fruit. Instead of tickling the pear to gain access to the kitchens, she reached to the banana lying on the table in the picture. Rapping her fingers against it three times, she stepped back as the the painting lifted into the air from the bottom, leading her to the kitchen gardens.
Pomona was convinced that this was the best way to start the day at Hogwarts. She breathed in deep as she stepped outside onto the little gravel path. The rosemary planted there filled her nose and she felt herself get just a bit lighter. She loved tending these gardens that went to feeding the students and staff.
As she moved through the herbs, she plucked a mint leaf, tucking it in her apron pocket. Pomona nodded to Twilly, who was digging up potatoes, and Zoosk, who seemed to be monitoring the greens. This was truly their garden, but the Herbology professor was happy to help where she could. She never experimented in this garden, only bringing tried and true ideas to Zoosk when she thought they may prove useful to the house elves.
Turning a corner along the path, she came upon the gourds. Squatting down to get a better look, she assessed that the self-pickling cucumbers they decided to try this year seemed to be coming along just fine. Though perhaps next year they should plant them separately from the regular cucumbers as it looked like the magical variety were beginning to spread.
Spending a few moments on her knees to separate the varietals, assessing sunlight exposure, the moisture content of the soil and such, Pomona breathed in deeply and intentionally. Much of this was unnecessary. The elves knew and tended to their garden well. But it was her ritual, and she delighted in it. Getting to feel the soil that fed the plants that fed her and her beloved students. It felt proper to get her hands dirty and be reminded of this simple importance before tucking into her meal inside.
Simple gardening was not what most of her students were interested in - not even those particularly inclined or talented in Herbology. Not even most Master Herbologists, she'd be willing to wager - though at the same time she hoped she was wrong. It may not be exciting, but it was the most important aspect of her field of study, the roots of everything else she did and taught. Without gardening, without taking care of the earth, they would have nothing. No other magic would matter.
Brushing her hands against one another to shake off as much dirt as possible, Pomona stood and made her way to her greenhouses. On mornings like this when the sun was providing a soft blanket of warmth she preferred to extend her morning meditations. But, there were things to be done and a sick tentacula to check on which was much easier to do before students were about.
She rounded a corner of the castle, glad to be taking the out-of-doors route as there wasn't a cloud of rain in sight. Rain or shine, the trek wasn't a long one. Approaching the last greenhouse, the professor picked up the watering can sitting underneath the gutter to bring it inside with her.
"Good morning, Vinny," she called to the large Venus Flytrap which had brought up it's head at her entrance. It unfurled, doubling it's height as it stretched. The plant reached out to the witch, following her as she made her way around the circumference of the greenhouse checking on plants like a sunflower turning it's head to the sun. As Pomona neared Vinny's corner, the leaves at it's base began rustling excitedly, causing her to chuckle as she set down her watering can.
Instead of granting attention to the eager carnivorous plant though, she turned to the one next to it. There in the corner of the shaded greenhouse was a plant as old as she, with iridescent leaves delicately hanging off it's spindly branches. Pomona carefully extracted fallen leaves from the pot, setting them aside for the new Potions Master who had a penchant for experimenting. She smiled to herself softly as she pulled out the Sickle from her apron pocket, holding it between two fingers. Breathing in deeply, she sunk both of her hands into the soil of the pot. Filling her mind with all of her favorite moments from the past year, she willed her positivity to flow from her hands, wiggling her fingers in the dirt, letting the silver coin fall from her grasp. With another breath she let flow from her all her hopes for the coming year, and her fingers found another coin inside the pot. Grabbing hold of it, she pulled out the old coin with her dirt-covered hands and dropped it in her apron to replace the one she had there earlier.
Pulling herself out of her reverie, Pomona realized that Vinny was now hovering over her shoulder as if watching what she had been doing. Chuckling and pulling her hands out of her apron pocket, she flung the mint leave over her shoulder saying "If you are going to breathe down my neck, at least have a mint. Now let's see about that tentacula, shall we?"