The following Tuesday, Aunt Petunia opened the door to find a squat little woman. Short, gray, wavy hair could be seen under a tan fedora that had seen better days. Her walnut-colored shirt was decorated with embroidery done in a coffee thread, and her khaki skirt reached nearly to the ground. While her clothes were well worn, on her hands she had gloves of what looked like to be the finest camel leather. "We don't need any …" Aunt Petunia began.

"Fiddlesticks!" the odd woman replied. "I'm …"

Harry came dashing down the stairs. "Professor Sprout! I wasn't expecting to see you!"

"Mr. Potter! It's lovely to see you. Albus offered me this opportunity and I couldn't resist."

Aunt Petunia looked from one to the other. "You're a professor?"

"Over twenty years!"

"Professor Sprout teaches Herbology, Aunt Petunia," explained Harry.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Harry here is a fine student. I'm proud to have him in my NEWT class."

"Newts? I thought you said herbology, not amphibian zoology."

"It's like A level," Harry explained.

"A level what?" asked Professor Sprout in confusion.

"Exactly. Honestly, why don't you just say so," sniffed Aunt Petunia. "You make things so complicated."

"Can I take your things to your room?" asked Harry, desperate to break up the exchange.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Petunia – can I call you that? What an appropriate name for a master gardener such as yourself as I can tell from just standing here by your lovely front garden! Please call me Pomona. I can tell a lot about a person by their garden, you know."

Harry barely withheld a snort as he was responsible for the garden during the summer.

Professor Sprout went on without giving Aunt Petunia a chance to speak. "Come, let us enjoy it! Of course, I know you designed it thus with the heavy fragrance of the honeysuckle just drifting to us here on the front step, inviting us to explore the garden's beauty before stepping inside." She headed to the flower beds, with a bemused Aunt Petunia following behind.

By the time Harry came back downstairs, Professor Sprout was on her knees and, having taken off her gloves, running the soil through her hands with a discerning eye. "It's simply marvelous how you got all these to grow so well. So many people attempt a tiered effect but can't manage it. Here, though, the petty mulleins are nicely framed by the round-headed rampion which is in turn embraced by the summer snowflake and St. Anthony's Laurel …"

Aunt Petunia realized that unless she broke in she would never have her say and decided to show this so-called herbology expert her place. "Petty mullein? St. Anthony's Laurel? Oh, you're mistaken. This is obviously cowslip – note the rosette of leaves – and the nursery was quite firm that those are rosebay willowherbs."

Harry was embarrassed by his aunt's rudeness, but Professor Sprout just chuckled. "Of course. It's sometimes hard to keep up with new names. In any case, you obviously put a lot of work into this garden – it certainly shows."

Aunt Petunia preened but then saw Harry out of the corner of her eye. "I must confess I do get a bit of help from Harry when he's around." Harry bit his tongue.

Professor Sprout smiled at Harry. "I should have suspected that you had previous gardening experience by how well you do in class." She turned back to Aunt Petunia. "Now I see no evidence of garden gnome infestation – what do you use to keep them away?"

"Garden gnome infestation?" asked Aunt Petunia blankly.

Professor Sprout chuckled again. "I understand. Master gardeners always like to keep one or two secrets." She finally stood up and wiped her hands on her skirt. "Well, I'll have a few days to convince you I can be trusted with a secret." She put her hands on her hips and walked up and down the garden, examining it closely.

Aunt Petunia heard voices coming down the street. "Would you like to come in for some tea?" she asked, hoping to get this strange woman inside.

"That would be lovely!" Pomona replied, reaching out for the rosebay willowherb. "I'll just gather some of the leaves…"

"No!" Aunt Petunia cried, horrified that her garden was about to be butchered. She took a deep breath. "I have tea inside."

"Ah, and of course I'd forgotten that you'd have to wait for the leaves to dry rather than using…"

"Professor Sprout, what did you say this flower is?" Harry interrupted, desperate to stop his professor from saying the word 'magic.' He inwardly cringed at the question but had said the first thing that had come to mind.

Professor Sprout looked bemused. "Surely you recognized a common dog rose. You learned how to tend its relative, the rosa canina draiochta in second year."

"Of course. I just forgot. Aunt Petunia, should I make the tea?"

"What do you think… I mean, that would be lovely, Harry," Aunt Petunia said sweetly.

Once seated at the table, Aunt Petunia was looking anywhere but at the dirt-encrusted fingernails of her company.

"It's so nice to meet a fellow gardener," said Professor Sprout as her tea cooled. "Would you mind if I putter around in your garden while I'm here?"

Aunt Petunia looked at her suspiciously. "You don't plan to do anything … strange to it, do you?"

Professor Sprout shook her head. "Absolutely not! I know what can happen when someone disturbs your plan."

Aunt Petunia sighed in relief.

"But perhaps I'll have one or two tiny suggestions…"

Aunt Petunia's eyes narrowed. "Only suggestions?"

Professor Sprout shrugged. "I do have a way with plants – it's why I went into herbology. I might be able to convince some of them to bloom longer or bloom early."

"I have to admit that would be nice. I have the local garden club coming over next week and I'd love to have the garden at its peak then." Harry didn't know whether Aunt Petunia honestly didn't know that Professor Sprout was talking about using some magical techniques or was just going to ignore it if it resulted in her getting a rave review by some of the influential wives of the neighborhood.

Professor Sprout smiled. "Consider it my gift to you for imposing on you for a few days."

Pomona spent most of the day outside, humming to herself. In the morning, she examined the front garden with a gimlet eye. In the afternoon she moved to the garden in back. Watching her, Harry was convinced she touched every leaf, stroking it and lifting it up to see how it looked underneath. She sniffed every bloom and gently scratched around the roots of each plant.

Aunt Petunia, looking out the window, grew more and more nervous. She had a growing fear that, despite what Professor Sprout had promised, when the woman left that her garden would be a sorry relic of what it had been just that morning. She finally broke out a bottle of wine to calm her nerves. When Pomona came in for the day, wiping her hands on a large handkerchief, she saw the half empty bottle on the table and sat down, Accio'ing a glass. Aunt Petunia had had enough to drink at that point that she barely winced.

The conversation was desultory at first, and Harry, dusting the sitting room, breathed a sigh of relief. "I do have one question for you," Professor Sprout suddenly said, "Almost all your blooms are pink or white, with just a few highlights of blue. Why no red? Especially with Harry here, I'd expect red and gold to predominate."

Aunt Petunia looked up from her glass and refilled it. "Oops. It looks like we need another bottle. Harry!"

Harry brought over another bottle and opened it.

"So why would I want red and gold? Such garish colors." She giggled, a sound Harry seldom heard. She held up the bottle. "See? Even white wine."

Professor Sprout refilled her glass as well. "Oh, I agree. Give me yellow any day. Earth color, you know. Accent it with black and you have the earth and the sun. Practical, stable. But Harry followed his parents into Gryffindor and they're known for their hot tempers."

Aunt Petunia had had enough to drink that it took her a few moments to gather her thoughts. She looked blearily at Harry. "You have her eyes, you know."

"Aunt Petunia?"

"My sister. It's not fair you have her eyes. I hardly have anything of her. Just the one vase. She was always the one to be gadding about town. I watched her when some creep from the wrong side of the tracks followed her like he was a puppy dog. I dunno what happened, but one year he no longer came around – probably joined some gang and ended up in prison." She took another large swallow of wine. "Lily had so much energy. Then one day she left and never returned."

Professor Sprout nodded as she reached for the bottle. "I knew Lily and James. Right energetic they were. You never knew where you'd find them, and then in the seventh year you'd always find them together."

Harry longed to hear more about his parents but at that moment they could hear the front door open as Dudley returned to the house.

"Oh, dear," moaned Professor Sprout. "Wait, somewhere in here …" she reached inside one pocket and then another before finally pulling out a small bottle with an orange liquid in it. She shook it and as it began to fizz she poured a few drops first into her glass and then into Aunt Petunia's. "Can't have your son see you inebriated – sets a poor example, you know."

"Whassit?" asked Aunt Petunia doubtfully looking at the glass.

"Hair of the crup, my dear. You'll feel better as soon as you drink it."

"Oh – OK." She gulped down the rest of her glass before she thought to ask, "What's crup?" After a moment, she shook her head and sat up. She eyed the professor. "That was thoughtful of you. I don't normally drink, you know. It's just that with so much going on …"

"Think nothing of it, my dear."

Aunt Petunia decided she almost liked this down-to-earth professor who would put the garden into tip-top shape and share her drinking cures.

Dudley came into the kitchen as Aunt Petunia was shaking off the last of the effects of the wine. "Diddikins!" Aunt Petunia didn't notice her son's wince. "Did you have a good afternoon? Did you play with Piers, Dennis, Gordon, and Malcolm?"

Dudley headed to the refrigerator. "Nah. I was with Giles. A new friend I met at Smeltings."

"How wonderful! Popkin," Aunt Petunia continued, ignoring another wince, "this is one of your cousin's teachers, Professor Sprout."

Professor Sprout responded to Dudley's lethargic "hello" with a wide smile. "It's wonderful to meet you. I don't know if Harry has talked about me at all, but I teach Herbology. Do you help your mother with her gardening too, like Harry does? She does have a beautiful garden."

Dudley looked down at the floor. "No – that's more Harry's domain."

"Nonsense! Plants belong to no one – that's part of their beauty. Why, by looking at you I can tell you'd have a positive affinity for flora."

Harry gave a soft snort. Dudley would only be positive about plants if he could pull them up. He suddenly had a wicked idea for a prank. "I bet Dudley would be great at identifying weeds," he said in an innocent voice.

"No, really, I …" Dudley started to say.

"That's Harry's job," Aunt Petunia said at the same time.

Professor Sprout ignored both. "Great! Just follow me," she said with a smile.

Dudley gave a hopeless look at his mother but followed Professor Sprout out the door.

Aunt Petunia grabbed Harry's arm. "What did you say that for?" she whispered. "You know poor Dudders gets heat stroke so easily."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia." Harry looked as contrite as he could. "I'll go outside right now and tell Professor Sprout that I'll take over from him." He planned to dawdle. It would serve Dudley right to spend some time on his knees in the dirt.

When her son didn't come right back in, Aunt Petunia decided he had gone back to playing with his friend – Gilbert, was it? She was shocked when she went outside an hour later to find both Dudley and Harry entranced by the lesson Professor Sprout was giving them. "Very good, Dudley," she was saying. "Now try this earthworm. Which end is the head?"

Dudley let the professor drop the proffered earthworm into his hand. With surprising gentleness, he nudged one end. "This one."

"Absolutely right! Now, notice its dark pigmentation. Remember what I was telling you earlier? What does that tell you?"

"That it lives near the surface."

"Correct! Now …"

Aunt Petunia cleared her throat. "Dudley, dear, you shouldn't strain yourself. Come in and have a snack."

"Can it wait a few minutes, Mum? This is really interesting."

"I don't think your father would appreciate coming home to find you crawling in the dirt," Aunt Petunia pointed out.

Dudley looked apologetically at Professor Sprout. "I gotta go. But can you teach me more tomorrow?"

Professor Sprout stood up and wiped her hands on her skirt. "Of course!" she said with a smile.

Then, to Harry's amazement, Dudley turned to him. "Ready to go in for a snack, Harry?"

Harry looked at Aunt Petunia, who looked as if she wanted to object but then nodded. "Of course, you as well," she said.

"Well, I've done as much as I can for the day. I'll go get washed up for dinner myself," Professor Sprout said.

Uncle Vernon came home just as dinner was being put on the table. Aunt Petunia took a quick look at the professor and was pleased to note that she had cleaned the dirt from under her nails and had put on a clean blouse and skirt. "Vernon, dear, this is Pomona Sprout. She's from Harry's school. She teaches Herbology and is helping me put the final touches on the garden for the Garden Club visit next week."

Uncle Vernon had started to puff up when Harry's school was mentioned, but deflated when Aunt Petunia mentioned the garden. "I know making a good impression on the Garden Club ladies is important to you, Pet. If Pomonia, here…

"Pomona," Aunt Petunia corrected gently.

"Pomona, here, can help you with that, well, a live-in gardener for a couple of days won't be a problem at all."

Harry winced at the rude put-down, but Professor Sprout just smiled. "Oh, it will be no problem at all."

And indeed it wasn't. The professor was happy to putter in the garden during the day. Dudley would spend a couple of hours with her before becoming distracted and heading off. Harry envied Dudley's freedom, but stayed to help the professor while Aunt Petunia would wander out now and then to make sure her garden was not being destroyed.

Dudley knocked at Harry's bedroom door again the night before Professor Sprout left. "I think I'd like Professor Sprout as a teacher," he said.

Harry nodded. "She's a good teacher. She gets her point across and isn't afraid to chide you if you're not paying attention, but she's fair."

"I wish we had a class like that at Smeltings."

"I don't think your Dad would let you take it. He didn't seem too happy to see you out there today."

"Yeah, it's a good thing Professor Sprout was planning to leave anyways. Dad was pretty mad when he found me out there. After he hauled me inside he told me I could do more in life than grub around in the dirt."

"But you looked like you didn't mind."

Dudley shrugged. "Nah. It was kind of interesting and fun. When I move out …" Harry watched him return to his own room. He told himself he didn't expect and wasn't hurt by Uncle Vernon's lack of concern for his own future, and then remembered that until Voldemort was killed he didn't have a choice as to his own path in life anyways.

I learned a lot about the native plants of Britain conducting research for this chapter. Please let me know if I made any errors. Just as a reminder, you will not get emails advising you that updates on any of the stories you are following have updated unless you go to your account/settings page and opt in to receive them. Reviews are appreciated!