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Before leaving, Mr. Lind briefly introduced students studying plaques to plants that caught their attention in the greenhouse. Agave with leaves like swords pointing at the gloomy glass roof above. Aloe swollen full of juice. Ferns brownish-green like withered leaves lying on the ground. Tall jointed pencil cactus holding up twisted thorny arms. Mistletoe cactus with slender branches hanging from trees. And their reddish relatives...
Anthony also curiously asked what that tree in the greenhouse corner was. His understanding of plants mostly came from two sources: playing with friends in street parks, and helping kind neighbor ladies tend gardens. And if there was a gardening plant list, that elegant lady who constantly had "I'm going to faint" on her lips would definitely immediately strike words like "cactus" and "drought" from the list.
"Pereskia," Mr. Lind said. "Also a Cactaceae plant. Yes, besides these common thorny little fellows," he waved at the tall pencil cactus, "Cactaceae also has epiphytes..." He pointed toward the long hanging mistletoe cactus. "And trees."
That tree stood quietly in the greenhouse corner. Looked completely different from those cousins and relatives of the same family. But fairly speaking, its relatives also looked quite different. If not for Mr. Lind's introduction, Anthony absolutely wouldn't think they'd be classified together.
"I think you should all have noticed our ground," Mr. Lind added.
The entire greenhouse floor was covered with yellowish-brown sandstone. Made people entering this arid region greenhouse on rainy days involuntarily relax.
"In summer, the sandstone in the house absorbs heat during the day and releases heat at night," Mr. Lind introduced. "Of course, probably not weather like today. But you should be able to imagine a clear sunny day. Don't underestimate this bit of heat... On very cold nights, plants benefit from it. Besides, just like in the wild, a bit of shade can help plants reduce water loss speed. Also convenient for our garden to save water when operating greenhouses."
Students listened with great novelty as he introduced how the botanical garden made all plants live comfortably by adjusting soil quality, greenhouse structure, and plant arrangement.
For magical greenhouses, humidity and temperature were just matters of a few spells. All nutrition could be solved by applying fertilizer. As far as Anthony knew, Professor Sprout herself was a fervent dragon dung fertilizer advocate. Just for different herbs, she had her own theoretical experience about composting duration, added auxiliary materials, and fertilizing time.
Moreover, although she as an herbalist who received traditional education insisted one shouldn't use Aguamenti to irrigate plants ("Artificial water is too pure. Will lose many things natural water has. Very important things for plant growth"), from her words in afternoon tea chats it wasn't hard to deduce more and more people in the wizarding world did this ("Of course, dragon dung can solve these problems...").
Therefore, when Muggles were trying every way to save water resources, almost every student who could get E on Charms exams—even some A's—were mobile water stations. Just give them a suitable little wooden stick.
"Really difficult," the student who suspected Christmas cactus would breathe fire sighed. Followed others lining up behind Mr. Lind. Under his guidance headed to the next stop.
"Yes. And amazing," Anthony stood at the queue's end. Heard students beside him whisper. "They can think of so many solutions without magic... I mean, are we really all human?"
Anthony pushed his shoulder. Reminded him to catch up with classmates ahead. He said, "Yes. We just used different tools. If you hadn't already entered Hogwarts, maybe now you'd be explaining greenhouse design principles with us."
The student startled. Turned to find the professor standing behind. Shrank his neck. Made a face at his friend. Caught up with the queue.
The ground was still wet. Dark clouds in the sky finally dispersed somewhat. Depending on wind's preference, sunlight occasionally fell on the botanical garden washed emerald clean. Also made puddles shine. Air moist. Vaguely stuffy with the next rain. But right now, damp water vapor permeated the botanical garden. Soil smell floated. Benches beside the road empty. Trash cans also stained with water and leaves.
Couldn't see many people on the road. Water-washed leaves brand new. In fact, the whole world seemed new.
Only now did students realize this botanical garden really was a big garden. Under rainstorm's urging, when they first passed they completely didn't notice those carefully designed winding paths. Or daffodils hanging their heads on both sides of paths.
This stretch of road was quite pleasant. Although plaques stood beside flowers and grass in various areas, not many people bothered looking at them. Students splashed puddles with conjured rain boots. Or picked up fallen leaves spinning in pools. Water drops slid down leaves. Smashed on their Muggle clothes, yellow and black rain boots. Finally drilled into garden paths paved with small stones.
After wind and rain passed, birds in the woods gradually called again. Clear melodious chirping trembled in moist air. Drainage sewers far away transmitted water flow sounds.
At students' request, Mr. Lind agreed to let them move freely outdoors for half an hour. But he proposed everyone eat lunch first. At his reminder, people discovered they were already hungry.
He brought them to the lawn where they could rest freely. Right next to the botanical garden's restaurant. Anthony shook out waterproof picnic cloths. Spread them on benches and grass. But he quickly found this was unnecessary: students had their own picnic cloths. They padded raincoats under themselves. Directly sat roadside enjoying sandwiches, pumpkin pasties, or apple pies. Completely ignoring wet pant legs.
Anthony even saw a student pull out pumpkin juice and vanilla ice cream from their backpack. Ice cream still in an exquisite glass cup.
Mr. Lind obviously saw it too.
"Magical life," he smiled. Said enviously, "My daughter would be jealous."
Anthony said half-truly half-falsely, "I'm jealous sometimes."
When everyone decided to sit down and share a lunch with botanical garden ants using their breadcrumbs, Anthony also sat down. Took out tuna mayo sandwiches from his bag—he increasingly agreed with Tonks' view. Cocoa must be especially good at kitchen magic. Better than other house-elves. Could make the most ordinary food delicious—happily asked Mr. Lind, "Would you like to try?"
"I'd certainly like to," Mr. Lind said. "But this is your lunch..." His voice disappeared. Stared at the second, third, fourth sandwiches Anthony pulled out.
"I worried some students forgot to bring lunch," Anthony said easily. "But now it looks all good. Please help yourself."
When Mr. Lind cautiously selected a bacon cheese sandwich, he pulled out a large bottle from the huge backpack—not the kind of conjured jar like the student who brought pumpkin juice, but the largest package bought from supermarkets—said loudly, "Does anyone want orange juice?"
Nearby students immediately came over. "Me, Professor Anthony. I'm just thirsty."
"Have a cup?" Anthony asked.
"No," the student said.
"Alright," Anthony said. Took out a large stack of picnic paper cups from his backpack. The student contentedly sat back holding orange juice. And the scene of Anthony's table piled full obviously attracted people's attention. Soon several students ran over asking him for orange juice.
Anthony took a cup. Raised an eyebrow. "Are you of age, Mr. Toller?"
By his experience, what remained at the cup bottom was definitely Butterbeer. For students, this low-alcohol drink just satisfied their challenging mentality. Yet not too unpleasant. Not everyone was like Skeletal Cat. Could appreciate white wine's wonderful aspects from the start.
"Uh, no, Professor," Toller said nervously. Rubbed the ground with his foot.
Anthony looked at him warningly. Filled orange juice for him. "Hand it over. Don't make me go myself." He stuffed the cup back into Toller's hands. This boy's face flushed red. Don't know if due to alcohol or emotion.
Several minutes later, orange juice before Anthony was half empty. But his bag had two and a half bottles more Butterbeer. Even a bottle of unopened vodka. Those students still wanted to pretend this was water. But Anthony pointed at the words asking if they suspected he was illiterate.
"No, I'm illiterate, Professor. This was sent by my pen pal in Koldovstoretz," he said pitifully. "A gift. A souvenir."
Anthony said, "Alright. I'll hand it to your Head of House."
"Oh no," the other groaned desperately. Like Heracles about to undergo trials. Tilted his neck and drained the orange juice in his hand. Said tragically, "Please give me another cup, Professor."
Mr. Lind quite appreciated Cocoa's cooking skills. After Anthony also poured him a cup of orange juice, couldn't help asking if Hogwarts sandwiches were always this standard.
Anthony then asked if he'd like to take remaining sandwiches. Not just for Mr. Lind. Could also let Mrs. Lind and Miss Lind, young Mr. Lind taste Hogwarts' craftsmanship.
Within Hogwarts, he rarely encountered people like Mr. Lind who could appreciate simple food like sandwiches... House-elves' superb skills made everyone in the castle's taste quite picky—just compared to ordinary British people. Anthony heard of Beauxbatons' reputation—only people like Anthony and Mr. Lind, people who occasionally relied on cold shriveled bread from street convenience stores for decades, could appreciate how amazing and satisfying the combination of perfectly fried bacon, slightly melted toasted cheese, and perfectly thick bread was.
"I could enjoy such breakfast to my heart's content," he joked to Mr. Lind. "Don't say you're not envious. On Britain's other side of the world, there's possibly the world's worst management department. But also excellent cooks. Our afternoon tea treats are great. Great enough to let people calmly discuss everything."
Mr. Lind paused. Laughed.
"Then I'm indeed very envious," he said. "May I ask if among those fourteen plants I encountered, are any worth eating? I hope I didn't miss too much."
Anthony thought carefully. Shook his head. "You missed nothing. I can't think of any delicious magical plants. Besides using magic to cook common ingredients, anything touching magic isn't tasty."
Like sticky potions. Slippery potions. Strange-smelling potions... In fact, besides potions, no one seemed to bother trying to eat those magical plants that screamed, cried, bit, stung, spat venom, strangled people. Even Professor Sprout's herbal tea at most added a tiny bit of magical herbs for flavor. The main body was still those leaves unrelated to magic.
Mr. Lind said, "Excellent. I can tell my colleagues this? About how they actually have all the materials but just don't make them tasty enough?"
Anthony said, "Of course. If you allow, I even want to send a portion of our afternoon tea treats over."
"That's wonderful!" Lind said enthusiastically. "In return, would you like to join our association? We can provide... well, garden tending experience and some relatively intense gossip?"
Anthony said, "Irresistible temptation, Mr. Lind."
"Excellent," Lind said. While carefully writing the botanical garden's mailing address on a napkin. Handed it to Anthony. "But please don't send owls. To protect plants, we expelled animals from some areas."
"Including owls?" Anthony asked amusedly. Imagined the botanical garden using some Muggle technical means to keep Ministry owls sent to deliver Statute violation notice letters outside.
Mr. Lind said, "Especially owls. One of our directors got somewhat annoyed by—I'm very sorry—your management department. He said he'd rather have a fighter jet fall into the garden than see another bird with rubbish tied to its leg."
Anthony asked curiously, "Did a fighter jet fall?"
Mr. Lind nodded. "Yes, Professor Anthony. Regrettably, a tragedy. But on the other hand, we indeed haven't seen many owls. Especially ones with things tied to legs. Thanks to Professor Kettleburn."
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