WHO: Tilden Toots and OTA WHEN: Tuesday afternoon WHERE: The grounds, near Greenhouse #3 RATING: TBD
There were few things as homely as a mandrake seedling. In fact, one could even argue that the wrinked, misshapen little tubers were so ugly they were almost - almost - cute. Tilden couldn’t help but grin every time he saw one.
He wrestled a writhing, howling little bundle of joy back into its pot, covering it with nutrient-rich dirt. After a moment, he removed his earmuffs and regarded the worktable before him. Professor Sprout’s second-year classes had transplanted forty-three mandrakes that afternoon, and nearly half of them required re-potting for one reason or another. He’d volunteered for the job willingly, and had finished in no time at all.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was time to get cleaned up for dinner, so he watered a couple of droopy looking Alihotsy, brushed off his robes, and left the greenhouse. He was halfway back to the castle when he (humming a tune and lost in thought) nearly ran into someone.