"Thanks, Tom. If I ever need this kind of help again, I'll definitely come find you!"
Harry gave Tom a grateful nod, carefully tucking the rolled parchments into his robes before turning to leave. Before heading to the greenhouses, he needed to deliver the essays to Neville and Seamus back in Gryffindor Tower.
Those two poor souls had probably been waiting anxiously in the dormitory, growing increasingly panicked as time ticked away without Harry's return. Knowing Neville's tendency toward nervous catastrophizing, he'd likely worked himself into a proper state by now, possibly even tears.
Watching Harry depart, Ron who currently harbored absolutely zero warm feelings toward Hermione released a cold snort. He gave Tom a quick wave of acknowledgment and hurried after his friend, practically fleeing the Great Hall.
"Wait, ghost-writing homework violates school—where did they go?"
Only now did Hermione snap out of her stunned fascination with Tom's absurd display of simultaneous essay-writing.
She'd been about to deliver a proper lecture about rule-breaking and academic integrity when she looked up to find nothing but the boys' rapidly retreating backs, already halfway across the Hall.
"Tom..."
Her attention turned to the large blue cat sitting calmly beside her. Her voice carried a mixture of disapproval and helpless resignation like a teacher catching a favorite student doing something questionable but not quite able to muster genuine anger.
She could scold ordinary rule-breaking students easily enough. But facing this fluffy classmate with his soft fur and those bright eyes, she found she simply couldn't summon the severity required for a proper reprimand.
After a moment of internal struggle, she sighed and shook her head.
"You really shouldn't do things like this in the future. It'll only waste your own study time. If you need money..." She hesitated, then added with awkward sincerity, "You could come to me. Or go to Headmaster Dumbledore."
She'd glimpsed Tom's four essays earlier, enough to note that while they shared the same core content (after all, dittany was a first-year herb with limited analytical angles available to novice students), each paper approached the topic differently.
The perspectives varied. The argument structures were different. The rhetorical methods and logical frameworks each displayed subtle but thoughtful distinctions.
The level of understanding demonstrated in those essays suggested Tom possessed remarkably thorough knowledge of herbological properties.
In Hermione's estimation, achieving such comprehensive mastery would require reading One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi at least three times through careful, analytical reading, not just skimming.
Of course, she had no way of knowing that Tom was indeed familiar with that particular book, but primarily because he'd used it as a pillow while researching Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them with Luna.
As for how he'd actually mastered the contents? According to Tom's own philosophy: if you sleep on a book long enough, doesn't all the knowledge naturally migrate into your brain?
Ahem. But that was beside the point.
Tom had been bracing himself for one of Hermione's legendary lectures—the kind that combined moral superiority with exhaustive citation of school regulations.
In his understanding of early-Hogwarts Hermione, she was exactly the type to passionately enforce rules on anyone who violated them, regardless of context or extenuating circumstances.
But this? This gentler, more concerned approach? This was unexpected.
Seeing her attitude was softer than anticipated, Tom abandoned his prepared sarcastic retort and opted for playful teasing instead:
[But the school rules don't actually say anything about ghost-writing homework~ And technically speaking, weren't you the one who lent them your essay first?]
"I—well, that's—but I..."
Faced with Tom's good-natured teasing, Hermione found herself suddenly tongue-tied, unable to give a clear defense. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she realized he had a point.
The minor incident concluded, their group of four more accurately described as two humans, one cat, and one ghost made their way through the castle grounds toward the greenhouse complex that served as Professor Sprout's place.
The greenhouses stood in a cluster behind the castle, their glass panels were catching the afternoon sunlight and glowing like giant gemstones.
Steam condensation fogged some of the windows from inside. The scent of rich earth and growing things grew stronger as they approached.
Professor Pomona Sprout was already inside Greenhouse One when they arrived, puttering among the various potted plants. She wore a patched and somewhat battered pointed hat, and her robes bore fresh streaks of dark soil like evidence of hands-on work with her beloved plants.
Her pleasant practically radiated warmth and contentment, giving her an approachable, maternal quality that made students feel immediately at ease.
Currently tending to what appeared to be a Devil's Snare that needed aggressive pruning, Professor Sprout noticed the arriving group and set down her dragon-hide gloves. She brushed off her hands unsuccessfully, given the amount of soil involved and approached with a welcoming smile.
"Oh, you must be Tom! Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned you to me." Her expression turned apologetic. "I'm terribly sorry that as Head of Hufflepuff House, I'm only properly meeting you now. I hope you'll forgive the delay."
She wiped her soil-covered hands on her robes, then extended one toward Tom with warmth.
[Hello, Professor Sprout.]
Tom grasped her hand without hesitation, completely unbothered by the earth coating her palm. Dirt? Please. He'd spent years as a full-time cat in his previous existence; he'd walked on four paws through considerably worse. A bit of soil was nothing.
He sometimes even felt nostalgic now, remembering when he walked on all fours.
After the brief greeting, Sprout's attention shifted to the other unfamiliar face in the group.
"And you must be Ariana. The Headmaster explained your... situation to me." Her smile remained gentle and reassuring. "Don't worry—my class isn't difficult. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."
Then her expression flickered with uncertainty as a complication occurred to her.
"Though I should mention, Herbology does involve quite a lot of hands-on work with plants..."
She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging unspoken but clear.
Dumbledore had naturally informed her that Ariana was a ghost—a fact Sprout had no problem with at all. She had no objections to teaching such a unique student. However, the Headmaster had also requested that Ariana's true identity remain confidential for now, which created a problem.
Herbology was deeply a practical subject. Students needed to handle plants, transplant seedlings, prune dangerous specimens, harvest ingredients. For a ghost who couldn't physically touch solid objects who would pass right through pots and plants and tools, maintaining the secret of her ethereal nature would be basically impossible the moment hands-on work began.
The other students would notice immediately.
[Leave that to me!]
Tom tapped his chest confidently with one paw. Since he was the one who'd brought Ariana out to begin with, he might as well see the good deed through to completion and solve this complication as well.
At minimum, he wanted to ensure Ariana could live something approximating a normal life until her resurrection became reality.
[Though for today's class specifically, I might not have enough time to prepare a proper solution...]
As someone who prided himself on versatile problem-solving capabilities, Tom possessed several methods for helping Ariana interact with physical objects.
However, all of them required time and preparation. Give him until tomorrow morning, and he could resolve Ariana's tangibility issues completely.
But the Herbology class starting in about ten minutes? That was a genuine challenge. He genuinely hadn't planned for this specific scenario.
"Oh, that won't be a problem at all," Professor Sprout said warmly, her expression was brightening with a solution.
She raised her voice slightly to address the gathering first-years, the young Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who'd been gradually coming into the greenhouse, claiming workstations and chatting quietly among themselves.
"Since we have new students joining us today, I've decided we won't be covering fresh material just yet. Instead, we'll review what we learned in our previous lesson!" Her smile widened as she delivered what she clearly thought was welcome news.
"And to give everyone adequate preparation time, the essay assignment I'd planned to collect today is now extended by one week.
An extra week should be more than sufficient, yes? I trust there won't be any students telling me their homework remains incomplete?"
"Oh, thank you, Professor!" several voices spoke in unison enthusiastically.
"Wait, what? No..." Other voices considerably less enthusiastic responded with dismay.
In the general celebration that resounded through the greenhouse, Harry and his group's expressions went through a fascinating transformation: from relief at arriving before class started, to confusion at the announcement, to gradual horror.
The reaction made sense, really. For students who'd already completed their essays, this meant an entire week without Herbology homework looming over them—unprecedented freedom. For students who'd procrastinated or struggled with the assignment, it meant a blessed pardon, additional time to actually do the work properly.
But for Harry, Ron, Neville, and Seamus?
They'd completed their homework, certainly. But that completion had come at the cost of four Silver Sickles—real money, paid to Tom for his ghost-writing services.
And now that investment was completely, utterly wasted.
Ron clutched at his chest melodramatically, as though he could physically hear his money pouch weeping in his dormitory trunk. Even Harry, who didn't need to worry about finances the way Ron did thanks to the vault of gold his parents had left him, felt the sting of unnecessary expenditure.
Four Sickles were gone, spent on homework they could have simply done themselves over the next week.
No one except the few people aware of Tom's business arrangement could possibly understand the complex mixture of emotions across the boys' faces. Actually, Hermione one of those few informed individuals wore a small, satisfied smile.
Serves them right for taking shortcuts. The money's wasted now, isn't it?
There was a certain karmic justice to it that appealed to her sense of how the universe should work.
However, Harry and Ron weren't the only ones feeling disappointment at this development.
'What a shame,' Tom thought with genuine regret. 'I was planning to monopolize their homework for the entire term. This ruins the whole business model.'
Yes, as any proper merchant understood, Tom's goal had never been a one-time transaction. That was amateur thinking. The real profit lay in establishing ongoing client relationships.
His original plan had been simple: once Harry and his friends submitted Tom's ghost-written essays, they'd be committed. To prevent Professor Sprout from noticing the sudden change in handwriting quality and style, they'd need to continue having Tom write all their future Herbology assignments. Every single one for the entire academic year.
It would be a steady income with reliable customers.
It was such a beautiful arrangement.
And now? Now that plan had collapsed before it even properly began.
'Ah well. Easy come, easy go.'
The Herbology lesson proceeded smoothly despite everyone's various private disappointments and preoccupations.
Professor Sprout was, as promised, an excellent teacher, patient, enthusiastic, and genuinely passionate about her subject in a way that made even Devil's Snare seem interesting. She reviewed proper handling techniques for various first-year plants, demonstrated correct pruning methods, and answered questions with encouraging thoroughness.
Worth noting was Tom's own performance during class.
It's worth mentioning that, thanks to his memory of the book's content and a bit of intuition, Tom's performance in class was outstanding. Therefore, after the course, he also received special permission from Professor Sprout:
As long as he maintained this level of performance, he would be exempt from all future Herbalism homework.
Actually, Sprout hadn't originally intended to set this precedent, but what could she do when Snape had given Tom this privilege in Potions class? What if she didn't offer something in return, and her promising student was snatched away by that old bat!