In the town of Hertford, on the outskirts of London, a muggy mist wrapped the area like a steaming blanket, making everything feel like it was cooking slowly.
Suddenly, a sharp bang echoed from within the mist.
A woman in her fifties, wearing a patched-up pointed hat, rushed out of the haze. If any Hogwarts student had been present, they would have been shocked to see her. It was Professor Pomona Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House—always calm, gentle, and grounded—now bursting with visible excitement.
"Robert, my poor brother..."
"If Dumbledore hadn't told me that the Book of Admittance had just recorded a name—Robert Sprout—I would have believed your entire family had perished at the hands of the Death Eaters."
"Merlin, that child—Robert—he's alive!"
Professor Sprout panted heavily, her eyes filled with guilt and remorse. For so many years, she had thought the Sprout bloodline had ended. She couldn't fathom how a child had survived all this time, alone and unprotected.
As his only living relative, she had failed in her responsibility to raise him, to find him.
But now, her expression hardened with determination.
She would bring this child back to the wizarding world—back to where he belonged—and she would do everything in her power to make up for the years he had lost.
She glanced down at a slip of parchment in her hand.
"Lister Plantation... That's the address the Book of Admittance gave me."
With a flick of her wand, the mist before her parted as though pulled back by invisible fingers, revealing a slender figure up ahead.
The moment she laid eyes on him, a deep sense of familial connection stirred within her.
It was Robert Sprout.
But then she noticed what the boy was doing—and her heart dropped.
"Eighty! Eighty!" Robert called out, counting under his breath.
At Lister Plantation, he was standing over a dug-out patch of earth, gripping a shovel in both hands. The air inside the greenhouse was even more stifling than outside, but Robert was completely focused on his task—digging steadily, planting cotton seedlings one by one.
Only after he carefully patted down the soil and straightened the delicate stalk did he finally smile.
"Done!"
In his vision—visible only to him—text shimmered above the newly planted seedling:[Successfully planted cotton ×1]
[Planting Reward – Slight increase in heat resistance (in gestation)]
[Upon plant maturation, reward will upgrade to: Slight increase in heat resistance, extremely slight increase in drought resistance]Robert looked over the neatly organized rows of seedlings, his eyes brimming with anticipation.
Once this batch matures and I harvest the last crop, my heat and drought resistance will be enough to plant trees in the Sahara Desert without breaking a sweat.
That's right—Robert was a transmigrator.
In his previous life, he had been a graduate student specializing in agriculture, working on crop research deep in the mountains. One day, a landslide triggered by heavy rainfall swept through the experimental fields. When Robert woke up, he found himself in 1980s London, in the body of an orphaned child.
Luckily, his memories had come with him.
Armed with planting knowledge far ahead of this era, Robert had managed to survive, finding work on a Muggle farm. He made a living planting crops—until the day he planted his first seed and saw something strange.
Floating text appeared above the plant.
At first, he thought it was a hallucination caused by heatstroke or exhaustion. But when he touched the glowing light cluster that accompanied it, he immediately felt its effects: his endurance subtly improved, his body just a bit more resilient.
That was when he realized—this was his golden finger, his unique cheat code in this new life.
He called it the Planting System.
As long as he personally planted a crop and ensured the proper conditions, the plant would grant him a reward. If he waited until it matured before collecting the reward, it would upgrade significantly.
It wasn't flashy like other transmigrator systems—no game-like stat sheets, no overpowered skill trees—but it was real, and it perfectly embodied one rule: you reap what you sow.
Other people might find this process boring or repetitive. But to Robert, who had once endured hailstorms, crop failures, and petty theft in the name of research, this system was miraculous.
He remembered how his experimental crops could vanish overnight thanks to old ladies picking half an acre of fruit before sunrise, only to complain the next day that it tasted sour.
Robert shuddered at the memory, then shook it off.
"Let's calm down with another cotton plant," he said, gripping his shovel again. "Compared to that, this life is heaven."
"And Mr. Lister is really a good man. He gave me a whole plantation to farm—even at the risk of violating the Child Protection Act. And he pays me wages too!"
"If not for him, how could I have accumulated so many rewards so quickly? What a comfortable life this is!"
Under the humid greenhouse roof, Robert continued digging tirelessly, planting one seedling after another.
To Professor Sprout, standing at the edge of the plantation, the sight was unbearable.
Her nephew—just eleven years old—reduced to what looked like forced labor in a cotton field.
She had imagined many possibilities for his life in the Muggle world. Perhaps he had been adopted by a family, or sent to a local orphanage.
But this?
In 1991, Britain still had cotton plantations?
She clenched her fists. Her face turned pale. Her eyes welled with anger and shame.
It looked to her like slavery.
Even black slaves, she thought bitterly, had at least been given watermelon and fried chicken. Robert had been working this whole time without even a sip of water!
Her wand flew into her hand.
She pointed it at Mr. Lister, who was watching from a distance, completely unaware of the incoming storm.
"Vampire!" she snarled. "No—even vampires are more humane than you!"
Before Mr. Lister could stammer a word in his defense, a bright flash erupted from her wand.
"Stupefy!"
The man crumpled instantly.
Sprout inhaled deeply, trembling with fury. For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to cast Crucio. But no—that would have to wait.
Right now, her priority was clear: get Robert out of this cursed place.
She stormed toward the plantation rows.
Her footsteps caught Robert's attention.
He looked up, wiping his brow.
"Madam, are you...?"
Professor Sprout's face turned red with emotion.
"Robert," she said, voice thick with feeling. "From today onward, you won't have to work on this plantation anymore—"
Robert froze.
Bad news.
He was trained in agriculture, not economics, but this smelled like economic depression. Why else would someone be coming to take his job?
He hadn't even harvested this batch yet!
Fortunately, years of planting had accumulated all sorts of physical rewards. His heat and hunger resistance were far beyond normal. He could go without food, water, or even proper sleep. Sometimes, just basking in the sun refreshed him.
Otherwise, how could he possibly manage an entire plantation by himself?
Robert narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar woman standing in front of him. She looked sincere, but he couldn't take chances.
If she wanted to take over this job, she'd better know what she was up against.
"Madam," he said firmly, "if you're here to take my job, I suggest you reconsider."
"I can work without wages. Without food. Without water. Even without sleep."
"Can you?"
For more chapters
patreon.com/Ben479