As Vizet and Luna approached the rook-shaped house, two owls swooped toward them, fluttering around their heads and chirping excitedly.
The Christmas gifts from Professor Sprout were thriving — rows of color-changing Flitterblooms were in full bloom, their rose-like flowers swaying in the evening breeze.
As the two passed by, the vines of the Flitterblooms waved back and forth, as if they were joyfully welcoming them home.
"No wonder so many wizards like to keep Flitterblooms," Vizet said, picking up the watering can and circling it around the base of a plant. "They're so full of life."
The blooms swayed even more exuberantly as the water soaked into the soil, their colors deepening in response.
Luna reached over the curling vines and gently brushed her fingers along a vivid red blossom. "They're even prettier in spring. The flowers turn pink then, like the sweet fluffy clouds that muggles like to eat."
Inside the house, the mural on the first floor had been updated again. A wide, green meadow now spread across the wall, hand-painted with delicate precision.
Luna had used the finest brush to sketch every stroke of the wind-blown grass, capturing the movement and texture of a vast, sunlit prairie.
The midday sun hung above it all, casting a golden glow across the farmhouse nestled at the edge of the field. Shepherd dogs lazed nearby while lambs nibbled at tufts of grass — a peaceful, pastoral scene, filled with warmth and quiet life.
In the kitchen, Xenophilius — now wearing his well-worn apron — placed a steaming pot of stew onto the table just as they walked in.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. "Back to normal, I hope? I could bake some bread if you'd like."
Vizet shook his head with a small smile. "I feel much better after the walk. And I think I've finally realized — I'm starving."
"Well, that's a good sign then!" Xenophilius beamed. "Come on — let's eat!"
After dinner, Vizet drew his wand and gave it a casual flick. "Expurgare!"
The grease and crumbs on the dinner plates lifted cleanly into the air, floated in a neat stream, and landed in the rubbish bin with a soft plop.
Xenophilius blinked. "When did you get so good at cleaning?"
"I usually help Professor Snape with potion ingredients," Vizet replied. "It's a spell I use a lot."
"Professor Snape? Severus Snape?" Xenophilius looked astonished. "You actually helped him handle medicinal materials?"
He gave a half-strangled cough that seemed to catch on an unpleasant memory. "Ahem — yes, well — he's not the easiest sort to work with. Back when I was in school…"
He trailed off, visibly shaking off whatever recollection had surfaced. "But very talented. Quite exceptional, even back then. Youngest Potions Master in a century — made the papers too, I remember that... Wait, hang on — he didn't punish you, did he? Arthur once told me he still uses... less-than-modern methods."
Vizet shook his head quickly. "Nothing like that. He just gave me private lessons once a week. I learned a lot."
Xenophilius's eyes bulged slightly. "Snape gives private lessons? Voluntarily? To someone not in Slytherin?"
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Vizet. "You're a Ravenclaw, right? Arthur said Snape's notoriously biased. Don't try to tell me you're a Slytherin and just saying you're not because of the, you know… image problem. I'm very progressive about these things."
Vizet nodded solemnly. "No, I really am a Ravenclaw. Maybe he just saw some... potential."
"Hmm." Xenophilius sat back, trying to look unconcerned. "Well, good! That means I can finally assign you some chores around the house."
But unlike usual, he didn't drift back into his workshop. Instead, he stayed with them, brewing a rare pot of steaming Gurdyroot tea — something he usually reserved for "important discussions."
The earthy aroma filled the living room, curling between the stacks of books and odd artifacts like a silent prelude. Vizet and Luna exchanged puzzled glances. Luna shook her head slightly: she didn't know either.
Xenophilius sat straight-backed, hands clasped over his knees. "Now," he began, "about our next travel plans — where do you two want to go?"
"Next travel plans?" Vizet and Luna echoed, surprised.
"Yes! Remember the book about fighting trolls?" Xenophilius beamed. "Sold out twice at Flourish and Blotts!"
"Now that we've got a little spare change... and Vizet's on holiday… it's the perfect time! A journey! An expedition! So, where shall we go?"
Vizet and Luna looked at each other again, each waiting for the other to speak first.
Xenophilius caught the glance between them and raised an eyebrow. "Come on! Just name a place. I'll make the final decision anyway."
"Sweden?" they both said at once.
Their eyes met again in mild disbelief.
"Well, that was perfectly synchronized." Xenophilius laced his fingers together and leaned forward, peering closely at Vizet. "So you both want to go to Sweden?"
Luna said nothing, simply turning her bright gaze on Vizet.
Vizet nodded. "Sweden's a fascinating place — Swedish Short-Snout dragons, trolls, Bowtruckles, and Horklumps."
"I remember Professor Snape saying that Horklump juice degrades if not harvested properly or stored long term. The best quality can only be gotten locally."
He paused, then added, "I'd like to try collecting some for Wiggenweld Potion brewing. It's something I've wanted to do for a while."
It was true. For some time now, Vizet had been planning to earn a little money by brewing and selling potions, but school responsibilities had always gotten in the way.
Now, with summer wide open before him, it was the perfect time to begin.
Of course, there was another more important reason he didn't mention:
Luna had once said Crumple-Horned Snorkacks could be found in Sweden.
Upon hearing Vizet's explanation, Luna let out a quiet breath. She had been worried that Vizet wanted to go to Sweden just to accommodate her.
"Brewing a Wiggenweld Potion? Brilliant idea!" Xenophilius rubbed his hands together eagerly. "We could sell it for a tidy profit — or keep some for emergencies!"
"And if Snape taught you himself, then it's bound to be reliable. Wiggenweld... Yes, I remember now — St. Mungo's is always in need of it. I might even know someone who could help..."
He jumped to his feet and began rummaging through the cabinet, muttering, "Where did I put those dill seeds? Someone sent them in after that article about Basilisk venom..."
Luna gently reminded him, "Dad, you asked me to plant them. They've already sprouted in the garden."
"Ah, yes! Wonderful! Thank you, darling!" Xenophilius beamed. He dropped back into his seat, his whole face glowing with the giddy confidence of someone who'd just swallowed a drop of Felix Felicis.
"This could be perfect! No need to buy distilled water — we've got our own! And if we're lucky in Sweden, we might even harvest our own Horklumps. No middlemen!"
But then he paused, scratching his head thoughtfully. "Still… it's dangerous to think of business as free money. That's how you lose your socks — and your sanity."
He turned back to Vizet, serious now. "Let me teach you two a bit of business economics while we're at it. Every venture needs clear accounts!"
"How about this: I'll help you sell the potion, take a standard commission, and the rest is yours. Sound fair?"
"Absolutely!" Vizet nodded without hesitation.
"Right then!" Xenophilius grinned. "As for the commission, I'll keep it to what the Apothecary usually charges. No funny business."
"And besides, you've got Snape. If you have any doubts about prices or ingredients, just ask your professor directly. Fair?"
"Of course," Vizet replied sincerely. "Thank you very much for your help."
Xenophilius waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, think nothing of it. Potioneers are hard to come by — especially one trained by a proper Potions Master!"
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