May 24th, 1894 — Crouch Hogsmeade Home

The morning sun filtered through the glass panes of Benevolence private greenhouse, casting a soft, golden light over the lush array of plants that filled the space. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth, an oasis of tranquility and life. Shelves lined with pots of rare and exotic plants stood against the walls, while tables in the center held specimens in various stages of growth, each carefully tended to by Nev herself.

Benevolence moved gracefully between the tables, her fingers gently brushing the leaves of a particularly delicate orchid. She wore a simple, practical dress in a deep green, the color chosen to blend with her surroundings and hide any inevitable smudges from her work. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose bun, a single, vibrant flower tucked behind her ear, adding a pop of colour in her otherwise practical appearance.

She paused for a moment, checking the time on a small, ornate pocket watch she carried. Charley was due to arrive any minute. Benevolence walked over to a table set up specifically for their lessons, arranging a few books and scrolls neatly. As she waited, Benevolence’s thoughts drifted briefly to her own time at Hogwarts, the friends she had made, and the challenges she had faced. Teaching Charley was a way to pass on her knowledge and passion for herbology, but it was also a means of preserving the memory of those who had influenced her own path - a path that Charley did not get to walk.

A gentle knock at the greenhouse door pulled Benevolence from her reverie. She turned, her smile warm and welcoming as she called out, “Come in, Charley. We have a lot to cover today.” The door creaked open, and Charley stepped inside. Benevolence gestured for her to join her at the table, ready to dive into another lesson filled with discovery and growth. “Good morning, Charley,” Benevolence said, her voice gentle yet filled with the enthusiasm she felt for their lessons. “Are you ready to learn about the wonders of magical herbology today?”

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   Charley Goode

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Lady is a wonder

She wiped her hands on the pinafore, turning the white cotton a dirtier shade of grey. Charley thought it was silly, cleaning her hands before diving right back into dirt, but Mrs. Mann insisted on wiping them off any time she was meant to handle something that wasn't soil or grown in it. Right onto a piece of white cloth that couldn't even be spelled against the dirt, making every smudge and streak evidence of the urchin's work, and her compliance.

It made Charley feel like the good, little schoolgirl again, turning open the door to her classroom. Only this classroom met her with a blast of humidity from the captured warmth inside the greenhouse. If she hadn't been sweating before, Charley would have been now. She pushed in, and used the hand again to wipe away whatever lingered on her forehead. A line of dirt marking her brow was a mark of her shortcomings as well, though none that even troubled the urchin with a thought.

After all, Benevolence was a willing teacher despite all her flaws.

"Mornin', Missus Crouch." The woman inside the greenhouse was a lot cheerier than crabby, old Mrs. Mann. There were times when she could believe that Missus Crouch actually wanted to help her, rather than make Charley fight for every scrap. She wanted very much for this to be one of those times.

"I dunno," the urchin drawled, sidling up to the table alongside the woman. Tipping her head, she gave Benevolence a glance out the corner of her eye, past the brim of her cap. "Is there summat wonderful 'bout 'em?"

So far, the great, gifted book of hers had only divulged basic knowledge, the sort Charley knew enough of by just watching Mrs. Mann from day to day. Or they were plants so rare that she could only read about them on the pages and look at illustrations drawn alongside. These didn't even move like paintings or some of the enchanted sketches on the Daily Prophet's front page, leaving the dreary depictions up to her imagination to envision.

Charley had quite a good imagination, in fact, it was only the book's sense of it that she questioned.

"Last week's wonders bored me to tears," the urchin quipped. "An' I en't much of a plant myself, don't need that much waterin'."

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