He noticed her hat first. The tall-ish, but very floppy, hat, a little grubby, was perched coquettishly on her mop of curls, looking as if it was relying on magic to keep it from falling. His eyes moved slowly down from the hat; beneath the brim he saw a pair of twinkling green eyes, like a cat's, undimmed by the slight shadow cast by the wide hat. And then there was a huge smile, beaming round at everyone from between two rosy cheeks. This pleasant face was framed by the greying curls that sprouted from her head in all directions, bouncing a little as she chatted with those around her, wild and untameable and yet very stylish at the same time.
She hadn't noticed that he was staring at her, but he realised that it was probably quite rude. Nevertheless it was more difficult than he thought it would be to tear his eyes away.
'My dear Filius, have you tried the custard creams? They're simply superlative.'
Professor Flitwick seemed to start out of a reverie and found himself no longer staring at the new teacher but at the wizened old face of the Headmaster, who had thrust a plate of biscuits beneath his nose.
'Er, no, I haven't – thank you,' he said vaguely, taking one. 'What's the new Herbology professor called again? Something Sprout?'
'Pomona Sprout,' said Professor Dumbledore. 'Have you not been introduced? Oh, but you must meet her... Pomona!'
The witch looked up from an animated conversation with Professor Sinistra and smiled her wonderful smile at Dumbledore. 'Yes, Professor?'
'Please, call me Albus.'
She nodded a little shyly.
'I hear you haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting our Charms professor... Pomona, this is Filius Flitwick. Filius, Pomona Sprout.'
They shook hands warmly (but a bit awkwardly, due to Flitwick's height).
'Charms, you say? I was never all that good at Charms,' bumbled Sprout. 'Things happened, but not always the things I wanted to happen. I got better, of course, but my spells are still a little unreliable, I'm afraid.'
Was she normally this talkative, or was she just nervous? Flitwick thought probably the latter. He had been nervous when he had first come to Hogwarts. The very place gave you butterflies in your stomach, never mind the presence of ghosts, elves, unpredictable staircases, talking portraits, and some of Europe's greatest witches and wizards. But he too found himself a bit stammery at this introduction, and that wasn't due to any of those things.
'Well, I hear you excel at Herbology,' he commented. 'Albus says that there isn't anyone who has a better command over the vegetable kingdom. And I hear that you make splendid pumpkin marmalade,' he added randomly, without thinking.
'Ah, you've heard about my pumpkin marmalade?' Sprout grinned. 'I call it a bit of a mistake myself. Always far too sticky, and ends up all over my kitchen. The stuff that makes it into the jars isn't too bad though.'
There was an awkward lull in their conversation that was broken by Dumbledore bringing over Professor Vector to be introduced. The Arithmancy teacher struck up conversation with Sprout very quickly, and soon they were chatting away naturally and as if they were good friends; Flitwick wondered how they did it.
Not long afterwards all of the teachers were called to tea in the Great Hall, which was for now, and for another couple of weeks, devoid of students. The Hogwarts ghosts were flitting around; some came down to the table to chat with the professors and to meet the new teacher. Over dinner the hall was filled with lively chatter and a merry atmosphere (particularly merry once the wine was served, it has to be said). But Professor Flitwick, usually the life and soul of a dinner-party and a spouter of amusing anecdotes, was for once silent and pensive, and he just couldn't take his eyes off Professor Pomona Sprout.
