Hearing Roger's calm but thoughtful words, Hermione—who had just been feeling quite disappointed—brightened up instantly.
"Really?"
"You think I'm smart too?"
"Okay, although it sounds a bit like bragging," she said, her voice speeding up with excitement, "my previous teachers all said the same thing."
"I'm still struggling between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."
"They say Ravenclaw is perfect for curious students, but Gryffindor is the best house."
As Hermione talked non-stop, filled with enthusiasm and self-pride, Neville sat gloomily in the corner, his mood clearly dropping.
"Cousin," he muttered.
"Were you just saying I was stupid?"
Roger replied calmly, "Neville, think about your memory for a second. I literally just told you that you're a Herbology prodigy with an amazing physique."
"How could you forget that already?"
"Of course, I gave you the Goldfish Plant because you're a genius."
"I believe you can take great care of them."
Neville's eyes lit up immediately. He carefully held the Goldfish Plant in his hands as if it were a rare treasure. But he still kept sneaking wary glances at Hermione, afraid that this highly enthusiastic bookworm might somehow cause harm to his precious plant.
Hermione didn't mind his attitude. She just sat down gracefully in the train compartment, still full of curiosity. Roger ignored her as well and instead took out another small flowerpot.
This pot contained rich soil collected from Professor Sprout's greenhouse. With a casual flick of his wand, Roger murmured,
"Terra—Laxus!"
Immediately, the soil loosened, becoming airy and perfectly textured for planting. Roger then carefully placed a Goldfish Plant seed into the soil. He added just the right amount of nutritional potion to keep the moisture level balanced—not too wet, not too dry.
Throughout the entire process, Roger's movements were steady and meticulous, as though he were handling an exquisite work of art. Not long after, a glowing line of text appeared on the pot:
[You have successfully planted Goldfish Plant]
[Rewards available…]
A small smile tugged at the corners of Roger's lips.
He handed the pot of freshly planted Goldfish Plant to Neville again, speaking with calm seriousness.
"Neville, this new life I just planted—I'm entrusting it to you."
Neville's face turned solemn with responsibility.
"Okay, Cousin. But I don't really know how to take care of them yet."
"I mean… how often do I water them? Do they need a lot of sunlight?"
Before Roger could even open his mouth to respond, Hermione leapt at the opportunity to answer. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she quoted directly from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
"Goldfish Plants like bright, indirect light," she explained.
"Ideally, they need five to six hours of sunlight each day. But make sure you don't expose them to direct sunlight during summer afternoons."
"They like moisture—but not too much. Water only when the topsoil feels dry. And don't let the roots sit in water."
She went on and on—delivering facts, precautions, even propagation tips—as if reciting from a textbook. Neville's eyes, initially wide with curiosity, slowly became clouded with confusion. His posture slumped as he tried—and failed—to follow every single instruction.
Roger observed him patiently and asked,
"Neville, did you get all that?"
Neville hesitated.
"I think I remembered… about fifty percent?"
Roger raised an eyebrow. "And now?"
"…Thirty percent?"
Moments passed.
Then Neville admitted softly, "Cousin… I've forgotten everything."
His head drooped.
"My memory's really that bad."
"Grandma never lets me near her flowers, and now I know why."
"I can't raise any plants. I'll just end up killing them."
"Maybe I should give the Goldfish Plants back to you…"
But Roger smiled widely at that moment.
His eyes flicked to the pot of soil he had just planted. It now displayed a miracle. A tiny green shoot had already emerged from the earth. And not just that—Neville's earlier Goldfish Plants were visibly thriving. The leaves looked more vibrant. The tiny goldfish-shaped buds were swelling with life.
Roger placed a firm hand on Neville's shoulder.
"No, Neville. Forget everything Miss Granger just said."
"Only mediocrities need to memorize those things."
"But you—my cousin—you're a genius."
"You just do your best. Trust the Goldfish Plants. They'll respond to you."
"I'm so confident in you, I'm going to plant even more and entrust them all to you."
Neville's eyes began to shine with newfound determination.
For once, someone believed in him—genuinely and unconditionally.
At home, he was scolded daily.
His grandmother would yell.
Relatives would shake their heads in disappointment.
He was the heir to the Longbottom family.
His parents had been heroes.
And yet, he was clumsy, quiet, and had even been suspected of being a Squib at one point.
Someone had even thrown him off a pier to see if it would "activate" his magic.
But now, Roger was entrusting him with something precious. And not out of pity—but out of genuine trust.
Neville straightened his back.
He would not let Roger down.
He would study Herbology well.
He would nurture these plants like his life depended on it.
Just then, a loud, mocking laugh rang from outside the compartment.
"Oh, did I hear that right?"
"Neville Longbottom is a genius?"
A harsh, taunting voice followed:
"Merlin's beard—if that's true, then everyone at Hogwarts must be Dumbledore."
The compartment door swung open.
A pale boy with slicked-back platinum blond hair and a smug expression walked in. Flanking him were two large, dull-looking boys. Roger immediately recognized the trio.
Draco Malfoy, and his lackeys—Crabbe and Goyle.
Roger recalled that Draco had a massive fanbase in the movies, but in the books, he was little more than a privileged bully in his early years.
Noble bloodline? Don't make him laugh.
Neville's face turned red instantly. His throat tightened. He couldn't get out a word. Roger sighed internally. This Neville wasn't yet the brave lion he would one day become.
Hermione stood up, her tone sharp and furious.
"Whoever you are, eavesdropping on others is extremely rude!"
Malfoy glanced at her and sneered.
From her look and mannerisms, he instantly pegged her as a Muggle-born.
"A Muggle-born, are you?" he drawled, full of disdain.
"You probably have no idea what the name Malfoy means."
He turned to Neville and Roger.
"Neville Longbottom—almost a Squib."
"And his cousin? From the Sprout family, right?"
"I heard you were raised in the Muggle world too."
"Guess it makes sense you're hanging around a Muggle-born."
"I wonder how Hogwarts even let people like you in."
Roger stared back blankly, his expression unchanging. Then he spoke.
"Oh? Is your father planning to become headmaster?"
"Did he send you to do some advance scouting?"
"Is he going to expel Muggle-borns once he takes over?"
"Or just low-talent pure-bloods like us?"
"Is Hogwarts going to become the most elite academy under the Malfoy regime?"
"I'll ask my aunt to pass this on to Headmaster Dumbledore today."
Malfoy froze.
Even at his age, he knew there were things you didn't joke about in public. He couldn't respond. His lip curled as he scoffed, then turned to leave.
Roger reached to close the door—but just then, Crabbe's eyes caught the lush Goldfish Plant in Neville's hands.
Its plump goldfish-shaped leaves reminded him of something else.
"What's this?" Crabbe asked.
"A new Chocolate Frog product?"
"Matcha flavored?"
He licked his lips.
"Looks tasty."
He stretched out a hand.
"Let me have a bite—"
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