The Goldfish Vine matured in the blink of an eye.
No one else noticed the scene—only Robert. The professors' attention remained fixed on him and the Troll. Even Professor Sprout, visibly shaken, couldn't hide her concern for Robert's safety.
Robert's pupils contracted slightly. He instantly recalled the vital nutrient for Goldfish Vine growth—Oblivion.
Whether Oblivion was present or not made a tremendous difference. The growth rate of the Goldfish Vine depended entirely on it. That was the primary reason Robert's Goldfish Vine production had never increased significantly. Hogwarts simply didn't generate enough Oblivion. After all, only a handful of students were forgetful enough to generate it consistently.
Even if Robert wanted to expand his cultivation, he lacked the necessary "fuel."
But now—witnessing how the Troll's presence had seemingly accelerated the Vine's growth—a spark lit in Robert's mind.
"Could it be… the Troll's Oblivion works too?"
"If that's the case, the forgetfulness in a Troll might generate far more Oblivion than all of Hogwarts combined."
"One Troll might be worth more than the entire student body's output."
"If I can harness that, my Goldfish Vine yield could double—or more."
The idea filled Robert with excitement. His eyes lit up, and the frustration he felt towards the Troll slowly faded.
If this worked… then perhaps the Troll, which had devoured so many of his pots, could at least pay him back by working for him.
However, before he could explore the idea further, the Professors had already taken control of the situation. The Troll was being moved out of the castle.
"This needs to be handled by Hagrid," one of them said grimly. "I still don't understand how it got in."
Professor Sprout, still visibly worried, hovered over Robert. As the Sprout family's only heir, she refused to take any chances with his health.
"You're going to the Medical Ward," she insisted, leaving no room for argument.
Robert sighed, deciding to keep his thoughts about Troll-based cultivation to himself for now. He would wait until the commotion died down—then find a chance to test the theory.
And so, Robert was escorted to the Medical Ward.
Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts' medical witch, ran her wand over him and declared confidently, "Robert is perfectly fine. Honestly, I think he could take down another Troll if it came to it."
But Professor Sprout wasn't convinced. She insisted Robert stay the night under observation.
Helplessly, Robert lay back on the bed. The strong smell of disinfectant filled the air as he tried to get comfortable.
Still, there was one thing he managed to negotiate.
"Auntie," he said softly, "could you please bring me the Goldfish Vines I've been growing? I won't be able to rest unless I can see them."
…
Meanwhile, the rest of Hogwarts was in uproar.
The Young Wizards, sent back to their common rooms after the Troll incident, couldn't stop talking.
As it turned out, Harry and Ron had followed the same path as the original story. Hearing that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom, they'd gone to find her.
"But as soon as we reached the first floor," Ron explained breathlessly, "we saw Robert beating the living daylights out of the Troll!"
"Merlin, it was brutal!" Harry added. "The Troll was crying—crying! It looked like a toddler getting punished!"
Their vivid retelling spread like wildfire.
By nightfall, the entire school buzzed with the story of Robert Sprout—the Hufflepuff who'd taken down a Troll.
…
Elsewhere, on the first floor, Dumbledore stood quietly, observing the aftermath.
He examined the deep scratches and shattered tiles left in Robert's wake.
"Robert Sprout…" he murmured. "The Sprout family doesn't carry any known Giant blood, do they?"
He frowned.
"Then where does this brute strength come from?"
His eyes fell to the shredded walls. Thorn-like damage, typical of a well-executed Pruning Charm.
But beneath it, he sensed something else.
"A faint trace of Dark Magic," Dumbledore said, narrowing his eyes. "It feels… like Sectumsempra?"
He turned to Snape, who stood silently nearby.
"What do you think, Severus?"
Snape sniffed and looked unimpressed.
"Maybe the Sprouts had some distant ancestor with Giant blood," he said. "Pure-blood families tend to be full of secrets. Didn't the Malfoys have Veela blood once?"
He turned to Dumbledore.
"As for Sectumsempra…" Snape hesitated. "I don't detect any trace of my spell here. And when did Sectumsempra become so weak?"
He crossed his arms, annoyed.
"Dumbledore, will your suspicious mind ever rest?"
"We've all seen Robert Sprout's talent—or lack of it. Magic perception can be trained. But raw magical power? That's innate. He's unlikely to make much headway in advanced spells."
Snape's tone sharpened.
"If you're worried that this level of spell might lead him down a dark path, then we'd better lock up half the magical world in Azkaban right now."
Dumbledore blinked, then chuckled quietly.
Snape had a point.
Robert, despite his lack of magical finesse, was passionate about his plants, fiercely loyal, and—as tonight proved—unafraid to stand up when pushed.
That's a Hufflepuff for you, Dumbledore thought. Protective. Honest. But not to be underestimated.
Still smiling, he turned and left the scene.
Snape lingered for a moment longer.
He crouched beside the markings on the floor, inspecting the faint magical residue left by the Pruning Charm.
A rare look of satisfaction crossed his face.
So… Robert found that old textbook?
The one Snape had left behind all those years ago?
And he even picked up Sectumsempra?
Heh. A Hufflepuff using the Half-Blood Prince's magic.
Snape smirked.
Maybe he'd give the boy a few tips—discreetly, of course.
He wondered what Robert's face would look like if he ever discovered that he was the Half-Blood Prince.
With that thought, Snape turned and vanished into the shadows.
…
Only after everyone had gone did a figure slip silently out of the dark corridor.
It was Quirrell, scarf wound tightly around his neck. His expression was unusually alert.
"That Sprout boy…"
"I assumed he was utterly average. No value whatsoever."
"But now… Giant blood? Or something similar?"
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
"Maybe… maybe he could be useful in getting past Cerberus."
"But not now. Tonight's incident will have Dumbledore on edge. I can't act too soon."
He paused, a cunning smile creeping across his face.
"But someone like Robert… so desperate to improve, so ordinary in magical strength…"
"If I just hint that Cerberus is guarding something that could enhance talent…"
"He'll probably run straight into the trap."
"Hufflepuffs. So easy to manipulate."
Chuckling softly, Quirrell slipped away into the night.
…
Meanwhile, Robert lay in the Medical Ward, unaware of the schemes that now surrounded him.
His gaze was fixed on the row of Goldfish Vine pots Professor Sprout had brought to his bedside.
Many had been eaten. But nearly thirty remained—and they had all matured.
Each vine bore heavy, glowing reward orbs, pulsing softly in the dark room.
Robert's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"Maybe… just maybe this will push my [Magic Perception Enhancement] to the golden-tier breakthrough node."
He reached out.
One by one, the reward orbs floated toward him, merging into his body like droplets of starlight.
And with them, the next chapter of his growth silently began.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Ben479